Stillness

Story and Photos by Tony Moceri

There is a level of hustle and bustle in the world that is hard to avoid. To be a part of “what’s happening,” socially or professionally, means engaging in often frenetic activity where everyone seemingly goes a mile a minute. I’m as guilty as anyone in perpetuating this behavior. I’ve been known to stare at the screen on my cell phone while also staring at the screen in a self-checkout line.

I engage in this hyperactive world for the same reasons other people do. It’s natural to be social. We are a social species that has designed a world where it is easy to surround ourselves with each other. This design offers great benefits in the form of convenience and access that would be tough to give up. However, sometimes I wish I could make it all disappear. I’m a naturally ‘hyper’ person, so as the world around me gets wound up, my energy follows. This is great… until it isn’t. At some point, it turns to stress as my cortisol levels rise. The masses of people and constant stimulation become too much, giving rise to a feeling of being trapped, a feeling that I must escape. So escape I do.

I retreat to nature, the place our species is truly designed to be a part of. To be social with animals other than humans. To be in the shadow of a mountain on a sunny day or duck under a protective tree when raindrops fall; to sit quietly on the shore of a river or in a boat in the center of a lake. I go to these places to relax my mind and lower my blood pressure. I enjoy going on runs under a canopy of trees and taking long paddles through crisp waters.

But most of all, I enjoy wandering the woods behind my house. With my dog in tow, we walk with no agenda. She sniffs, I gaze, and then sometimes we switch. When walking quickly, the area can seem small, but when slowing down to zoom in on the details, worlds upon worlds appear. A vine maple snaking through the woods with moss clinging to its bark. Bright green ferns sprout out of a rich bed of moss— their web of roots taste like licorice. These beds of moss are entire worlds for insects. Birds use the branches as springboards, launching themselves into the air to explore their domain from above. This world in the woods is as lively as the busiest cities in the spring and summer. Animals scurry around, going about their primordial business. The party is on, and there is no time to waste: these are the seasons of abundance. The nettles rise first, signaling that the growing season has arrived. New buds on trees and plants begin to emerge, and the tips of the fir trees turn a bright, waxy green. In these early times of spring, a keen eye and a little luck may reveal the delicate white blossoms of trillium, harbingers of spring. When the Pacific Northwest offers up warming days filled with a combination of sun and rain, the plants are so energized you can almost hear them growing, and the forest becomes dense with greenery. As spring gives way to summer, the berries come to life: salmonberries, huckleberries, and thimbleberries, and I have to race the birds to get my share (while avoiding stinging nettles so tall that they are now attacking both my ankles and eyes). I also attempt to fend off the relentless mosquitoes, a constant reminder that this is not my space but a territory I’m sharing.

With fall approaching, the colors change, leaves fall, and the thick underbrush recedes. Mushrooms sprout in a rich palette of colors. Now, what was once a party has turned to work, and all the forest’s creatures begin preparing for winter. Squirrels pack away food for the winter, and deer eat their fill of the remaining greenery. The leaves of bigleaf maples carpet the ground, and walking through the woods is now noisy as they crunch under my feet. A mass of fallen leaves almost completely hides the soft, dark soil beneath them.

Autumn reaches a dramatic crescendo when the rising winds force the strongest of leaves to release their grip. The woods are a bustle of activity with everything swirling about. Then, just as abruptly as the activity started, it stops. Winter has arrived.

Winter in the woods is my real escape. There is a stillness unlike anywhere else. The animals are quiet, having withdrawn to their burrows or flown south for the winter. With their stores of nuts and fat, they conserve their energy for long, cold nights. No longer are the plants reaching towards the canopy to gather every bit of sun. They are now resting, waiting for the race that will once again be upon them in the spring. The absence of leaves in the woods opens up my field of view. I can now see through the forest, looking over the giant sword ferns and through the bare branches. Only evergreens create a screen in the winter, the bushy branches serving as my umbrella on my explorations. No longer do the insects buzz in my ears; they, too, are in a dormant state or sheltering away from the elements.

While sheltering is the logical thing to do in the winter, thanks to rubber boots and warm coats, I can bring my shelter with me. I’m free to roam the woods with few obstructions or annoyances. The calm washes over me, and I lose my sense of time. The urgency felt in the rest of my life disappears.

Just as I feel the stillness could not get any deeper, the temperature drops, and a deep freeze sets in, stopping everything in its tracks. The branches don’t sway, and the animals don’t move. Even the crystal-clear water of the creek comes to a complete stop. I, too, stop, and all I hear is silence. It’s an entirely different feeling than the rest of the year, an unrivaled stillness. Encased in ice, the plants take on crystalline forms.

As someone who has never really liked the cold, always choosing flip-flops over boots, the woods have somehow won me over. It’s become an environment I long for the rest of the year, a time when I feel most connected to the woods, as though I’m the only thing moving in the world.

With winter now upon us, I once again have my escape. The forest is at rest and welcomes me with open arms. It’s comforting to know that I can now escape to my quiet place, where the animals will calmly observe me while I wander through their space. The venerable evergreens hang over me like a blanket, protecting me, should the weather unexpectedly turn. It is a time to move slowly, to notice the exquisite details that one can miss when the rush of life is in full swing.

It is winter in the woods, and all is still.