A Walk in the Woods

I went for a walk in the woods today. It wasn't a long walk, but it was nice. Sometimes I get too caught up in my mind. It's a dangerous place to be, I tell you. Today was one of those days, unfortunately. Election day was getting me thinking about the innate greed and self-centeredness that corrupts the political world. The ignorance and basic racism I find even here in Wellsboro (perhaps especially here, in Wellsboro?) was getting to me. The fact that the average, good-hearted American doesn't have the ability to get people to listen to reason and the truth, unscarred by political agendas was eating at me. And then there are personal issues that don't really need to be discussed. My brain was being tugged at in all directions, and there didn't seem to be a single answer in sight. No solutions, very little hope.

When I get like this, little things set me off. So naturally, I got unnecessarily upset that we weren't having pizza for dinner like I had thought. And when Dad wanted me to help research recipes for this non-pizza dinner, well, I was about in tears. Don't get me wrong: I know it's stupid. I knew then that it was stupid. And of course it had nothing to do with pizza. But the tears were threatening, and at that point there's no turning back. So I took a walk in the woods.

I wanted to feel my nose run in the cold, the numb, leathery sensation of the wind on my face. The slight burning in my legs as I climb the hill, and the jelly-leg weakness as the leaf-strewn ground evens out. I wanted to see my no-longer-a-puppy dog frolic through the leaves and in the creek like he hadn't a care in the world (he probably doesn't).

And so I walked. I passed the old treehouse my brothers and I built ten years ago, with it's plywood floors now green with mossy age. I came upon the creek we used to have leaf-boat races on, and listened to it's tired gurgle for a while. I was cold.

It wasn't any sort of novel-worthy spiritual experience. I spent most of the time watching the ground and trying not to fall over. Making sure the dog didn't get too excited and run out of my sight. And did I mention it was cold?

But when I came back up once again, I felt glad that I had taken the walk. I didn't have any illusions about being at peace with the world, but I was grateful for the physical sensation of the walk itself. It was something other than thinking. I started at the top of the hill, and when I was finished, I may have ended up in the same place, but I had been somewhere; I had seen something new along the way. My runny nose and jelly legs gave testament to that. So maybe the circuitous journey was worth it in the end, even if I can't put my finger on why or how it helped. And that is strangely comforting, in a way.