For me, one of the best things about a walk in the woods is being surrounded by the utter cacophony of nature.
Really, when you think about it, it’s a mess in there. Trees falling every which way, vines and thorns running in all directions, leaves heaped in erratic piles, little tufts of grass peaking out from under random mushrooms, a wild array of sticks and stones, punctuate every nook and cranny. It is so beautiful. The mix and the mess, the various shades and shapes of all things green and brown, rough and smooth, vivid and dull… and this time of year, the bonus of reds and golds and oranges fluttering through the air like a million dollar bills dropped from a plane flying by.
Chaos is the natural order. When my own life feels whacked out in all directions, I remember my walks in the woods. Underneath everything is a divine, natural DNA executing its plan, doing its thing without me to guide a millisecond of it. All those leaves are landing on the ground, turning into a blanket of soon-to-be compost, protecting the growing buds for winter’s visit–and then, there they are one day, peaking their way into spring–right on time, right on cue.
Being the smart and sophisticated folks that we are–we clear all this out. We re-design, landscape, nip, tuck and pluck the earth so that we can water and weed and feed and pray for the azaleas to bloom again, if the bugs don’t deem them the perfect buffet. We think we are in control. And, then, here come the weeds, once again. I think they may be laughing at us.
The Japanese calligraphy symbol for chaos is the same as the symbol for opportunity. If you get the chance, take the opportunity to go for a walk in the woods, where the chaos provides its perfection. Walk in the quiet grandeur of a plan so much more intricate and magnificent than any crop of camellias we could ever fret over.
other blog entries from »
When Robert Frost wrote, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” he put such deep meaning for us there; but on a lighter note, just to be able to walk in the woods is a gift — and how one chooses to spend that time might also have been a message from him. I choose to take my camera; one can walk through nature or be part of it. The lens gives me the opportunity to look not once, but many times, both during the picture taking process and again later. What lies on the surface is often missed; what lies underneath is often missed as well. The camera sheds a light that is both relaxing and reassuring on both; the obvious and the not so obvious. My truth and solace? Photograhy that helps me see what I might have otherwise have missed on casual observation.