Forest Stillness

I stepped outside and took a breath of cold, clean air.

The world was blanketed in a foot of snow, and more was falling softly.

I walked towards the woods, where I knew the magic was waiting for me.

I could feel the stillness calling to me,

an old friend waiting at the door for me to arrive.

I stepped onto the path that wound through the forest,

and my friend wrapped her arms around me and pulled me inside.

A cathedral awaited me, with walls that stood strong and protective,

a higher vaulted ceiling than any made by man,

and a hush more holy than found in anything built by a hammer and nails.

No birds sang today, all the animals were tucked away

in a warm corner under winter's snow and autumn's remaining leaves.

I brought all my pain and offered it up to the trees,

evidence of how hard I had tried to be seen, to share my love, and to be loved in return.

I asked them why it didn't work, and they asked me why I thought I had failed.

"Because people are still suffering," I claimed, certain that this would make my case.

"My darling", the trees said to me, "Suffering will always exist.

It is the way of the world, because humans never see the whole picture.

For example, you focused on feeling that other people never saw you,

but you never saw yourself. It is beautiful to want to show love to people.

But please don't forget that you are people, too,

and your own suffering is also more suffering in the world."

I fell to the ground and cried, because I knew that this was true.

I looked up from my sobs, expecting recrimination.

But the trees whispered reassurances to me,

the squirrels and chipmunks came and dried my tears with their tails,

and the wind played with the snow and the leaves until they coaxed a giggle to my lips.

I let the forest love me, and remembered that that's the same as loving myself,

because I am also the forest, of course, and its spirit resides within me as well.

After some time, I walked back home again,

but this time I carried the forest with me.

I tucked its wisdom away in my pocket,

and proudly wore the crown of its love on my head.

I am a child of the trees, and my majesty cannot be contained

in a tidy box for the world to consume.

It is mine to root into, and my branches can spread

as wide and as tall as my roots will allow.

That is my power, and I will no longer hand you the saw

with which to cut me down.