How I Go Into The Woods
Without a map
After my most recent post about employment being a violent assault on humanity, it probably isn’t shocking that I bailed on work last Wednesday, packed a bag, and drove north until I got here:
Last Wednesday started like any other day. I clocked into work at 8am, and then left for a doctor’s appointment regarding my ongoing headaches at 9:15. After trying several medications with no relief, my doctor finally gave me a chronic migraine disorder diagnosis and referred me to a neurologist. A mental and emotional breakdown followed. Pulling myself together for the sake of exploitation was not an option. Urgently getting out of town and into nature felt imperative.
My life has been unbearable for quite some time. My job and living situation do not align with the person I have become. It makes sense that continuously pushing beyond my capacity and inner knowing has led to a chronic illness. The body does keep score, after all.
Not surprisingly, my headache lifted for the first time in years once I got away from Detroit’s never-ending noise pollution. It’s as if the migraines are my body’s way of screaming at me to make necessary changes. Maybe I don’t need a neurologist. Maybe I just need birdsong, hiking trails, and bodies of water.
How I Go Into The Woods
By: Mary Oliver
Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds or hugging the old black oak tree.
I have my way of praying, as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone, I can become invisible. I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost unhearable sound of roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.
Unfortunately, my time up north came to an end, and I returned to the city. There is much to process after spending four days away from my routine with Mother Nature. The future remains unwritten.
What I do know for certain, however, is that something inside of me has shifted.
Instead of meeting a chronic illness diagnosis with self-harming behaviors, I cared for myself in the best way I knew how.
Instead of remaining in the ugliness, I took a step back and surrounded myself with as much beauty as possible.
Instead of grasping for something external to save me, I went into the woods to find my inner voice, to pray.
My time in the woods taught me that the path of alignment begins when my current path disappears. When nothing makes sense, it is time to leap into the unknown. Creating my own route, although terrifying, is the only way forward. The quieter I get, the more connected I am with my higher self, with God. The trail forward lives in the stillness. Uncertainty is a sign of transcendence.
As I sat on top of a dune, motionless as an uprise of weeds, I could hear the almost unhearable sound of roses singing me a song that went like this:
“Move closer to nature, Kelsi. Be unapologetically selfish in your wellness pursuit. Your health depends on it.
Take this chronic illness diagnosis as a permission slip to save your own life. Go where you don’t have to be witnessed talking to the catbirds or hugging the old black oak tree.
During this time of uncertain transcendence, going into the woods allowed me to take a sacred pause and leave my old map behind on Lake Michigan’s shoreline. I will travel into the darkness, learn to read the stars that shine within my soul, and let their light illuminate a migraine-soothing path forward.
Progress.
When Old Maps No Longer Work
By: Joyce Rupp
I keep pulling it out –
the old map of my inner path
I squint closely at it,
trying to see some hidden road
that maybe I’ve missed,
but there’s nothing there now
except some well-travelled paths.
they have seen my footsteps often,
held my laughter, caught my tears.
I keep going over the old map
but now the roads lead nowhere,
a meaningless wilderness
where life is dull and futile.
“toss away the old map,” she says
“you must be kidding!” I reply.
she looks at me with Sarah eyes
and repeats “toss it away.
It’s of no use where you’re going.”
“I have to have a map!” I cry,
“even if it takes me nowhere.
I can’t be without direction,”
“but you are without direction,”
she says, “so why not let go, be free?”
so there I am – tossing away the old map,
sadly fearfully, putting it behind me.
“whatever will I do?” wails my security
“trust me” says my midlife soul.
no map, no specific directions,
no “this way ahead” or “take a left”.
how will l know where to go?
how will I find my way? no map!
but then my midlife soul whispers
“there was a time before maps
when pilgrims travelled by the stars.”
It is time for the pilgrim in me
to travel in the dark,
to learn to read the stars
that shine in my soul.
I will walk deeper
into the dark of my night.
I will wait for the stars.
trust their guidance.
and let their light be enough for me.