A walk through the woods can be a balm for one's spirit, but one must be open to the myriad small miracles and wonders all around them. One must leave the hub-bub of the daily grind behind, must bring a peaceful mind. The delightfully chilled feeling of walking through cycles of life and death as the bright green leaves grin and wave at the husks of dead comrades that carpet the ground cannot help but invite meditations on existence.  Every niche, every microenvironment, teems with life rising from death. And these little worlds have a variety of denizens scurrying around, tunneling, avoiding the light. And make no mistake, you're being watched, and tracked as somehow, some mysterious way, the forest, and all the denizens therein, are aware of your presence. Some have gone silent while others, usually birds, broadcast the news of your presence far and wide.

    Yet the average person, not used to the forest, not used to the experience, remarks on the silence! Their ears are perhaps still ringing from the furious pace of the 21st century world, the head spinning migraine of constant, instant communication, the "Normal life". But if they just sit and listen, clear their minds, they'll soon realize that the "silence" they first perceived is made up of dozens of tiny, almost subliminal, sounds. Birds, of course, but maybe the throaty song of a bullfrog, or the rustle of bushes as a small "watcher" does not want to be seen.

     There is a rhythm to life. Its a rhythm which (I believe) runs through the whole universe. Its not life-giving, but it is life supporting. Everything, from the sub-atomic, to the mega-stars, runs off this energy. But our "civilized" world has buried that rhythm in tsunamis of jagged, disjointed rhythms that trouble the spirit. Nervous hyper-rhythms that saps the spirit. And for me, a trip into the forest and sitting in quiet non-thought, is a way to sync my rhythm to that universal beat.