The forest seemed to be smiling, its hands folded on its chest. Nature always seems to smile, not with pleasure, but with a sort of ancient wisdom. Through night, through rain, through cold, even through death it smiles. It knows about seasons, about cycles. I was clearly the only living thing in 700 acres that was wondering what to do next.
I got this idea that I was walking through my mind. Since I saw no other hikers for an hour and a half, it was easy to slip into this metaphor. I imagined that I was tip-toeing through my thoughts, my memories, my ideas about the way things are and the way things ought to be. And the air was crisp and cool.
The only woodland creatures I encountered were mosquitos, but I felt strangely honored to be considered acceptable feasting material in this great and complex, living and breathing entity we call Nature. It’s the least one can do when sitting atop the food chain.
I was astounded by the beautiful serenity of trees displaced by puny streams, their roots sticking comically up in the air, underbrush still clinging to the base, hoping to start a new ground at an 80 degree angle.
Not so long ago, I read somewhere that Nature holds endless metaphors for life, which seems a bit inside out, since we ARE Nature and can’t really be separated from it. Nevertheless, when you are out on a hike by yourself, you cannot help but end up with at least 5 metaphors for your life. I know I came up with about 7, none of which are particularly useful to mankind and do not, therefore, need to be repeated on the interwebs.
It is enough to say that, with every step on the carpet of needles, I could feel the Smile sinking deeper and deeper into my bones.