just moving through
This morning, I’m sitting on a deck feet from the Shawnee State Forest in southern Ohio. It’s not too early, 8 am, but it’s Sunday so early enough. Loud, cracking branches signal something sizable is on the move, and I wonder if it’s deer. Sheepishly, I look upward, realizing it’s a squirrel… a singular squirrel making all the new day racket!
I may appear calm on the outside, but inside I’m racing a million miles a minute. Like squirrels, I’m rarely still. My brain connects one subject to the next, producing too many ideas to ever execute in a 24 hour day, and while I can quickly craft my words and actions, sometimes it’s at the expense of thoughtfulness. It’s overwhelming, especially when I’m forgetful or hurtful. As these thoughts bounce around, another realization bubbles to the surface: I don’t like to move through the woods. Hiking is ok, not my favorite, though. A stroll would be pleasant, but then again, I don’t usually think about going for one. It seems counterintuitive. With all this energy, it could be useful to expend some of it, yet at this moment, I feel a deep resonance with sitting in the woods.
When I was a kid, I had an idea of what every decade of my life would be. In my twenties, I would climb the ladder of success, blissfully building wealth on into my thirties where I’d really get to know myself. I’d become the kinder, gentler person that I would surely lose in my twenties. In my sixties, I envisioned myself being the cool, artsy lady shopping at high-end fairs for handcrafted jewelry, gracefully moving toward an eccentric, fashionable woman in my seventies and beyond. I’d raise eyebrows as I traveled the world, the picture of health. The thing is, not only does this envisioned life seem odd (I have so many questions for my younger self!), but it also leaves out my forties and fifties, life’s no man’s land. What happens then?
I didn’t build vast wealth in my twenties. I slipped quietly into my thirties, where I fell apart. I’ve spent my decades moving through. Even though it may be my nature to be an Energizer bunny, I’m noticing how stillness unfolds, presenting greater mystery, grace, and gratitude. I seem to be deeply internalizing the theme of my forties…
I need stillness for balance. I need to slow down, reach inside, to become part of the world outside. If I’m moving through, then I’m not with. Moving through the woods, the forest becomes about me. Sitting in the woods, the forest becomes about us.
So, this morning, sitting in the Shawnee State Forest, I have time to connect, ponder, notice, and enjoy. In stillness, I go inward, paradoxically connecting more deeply outward. Life becomes more calm and clear. I can breathe. I notice the animals in the forest breathe too, going about their loud, Sunday morning lives, drenched in sunlight, without the passage of time but with the connection of now.