Spirits of the Woods

It is the absence of all distraction that enchants me as I stand along the snow covered creek bank. Happily, the usual cacophony that comes from human activity is missing. There are no sounds of motor vehicles. There are no human voices. No slamming doors or power tools. There is sound, but only a whispering stillness that is gently palpable.

 I am the only human presence, surrounded by 15,000 acres of wood and stream. I am the only one here, for miles around, but I am hardly alone. I am surrounded by living things; the spirits in the woods.

 I stand quietly, and take in the pleasing sound of water bubbling over and around the brown and white rocks in the creek.  I hear crows cawing in the distance. And I can detect the barely perceptible tic-tic of icy snow landing on the limbs, and in the frigid waters. I am reminded of a lesson learned very early in my life. “Anytime you’re moving in the woods”, my Great Uncle Carl used to say, “you’re missing something. Stop, be still. The woods will talk to you if you’re quiet... and you listen.”

A small crackle above causes me to look up, and I see the bushy tale of a squirrel as he rounds the tree trunk. He pokes his head round, and gives me a cautious look, before clamoring higher, to sit upon a limb. His furry feet make clicking sounds as he glides along the bark of the cottonwood tree.

A high pitched whistle orients my eyes to a circling red tail hawk. His wings are extended straight from his body as he grabs the wind in graceful dips and circles, then glides on in search of a hapless mouse or rabbit that will furnish him a meal.

I tilt my head back and breathe deep to fill my chest with the cold woodland air. The freshness of it is invigorating. I feel energized, and after a few moments, I decide to move further along the creek. My boots make a crunching sound with each step as I walk; which seems as loud as thunder, compared to the quietness around me. My eyes scan everywhere, and my ears are attentive as I move along the creeks edge. A splash up ahead causes me to stop.

A river otter has jumped into the creek. He swims along in utter disregard of the icy temper of the water. His head, with its beady eyes and shiny black nose, is all that is visible above  the water. He leaves a V shaped wake behind him as he slides quietly across the stream. He climbs out on the opposite bank, shakes the excess wetness from his brown hot dog-shaped body, and scampers under a tree stump. I move on, and find a large log that beckons me to sit.

I am never more alive than when I'm in the woods. I feel a connection to the earth that is electrical,vibrant, and calming all at once. The wildlife, the trees and plants, the sky, we are all God's creation, dependent on each other in a life sustaining circle. It is up to me as a human to show respect for Mother Nature, and be a good steward of what God has provided to aid me in my living journey on this planet.

 One of my great grandfathers was Eastern Band Cherokee. Maybe that particular strand of DNA is part of what compels me so, to be in touch with, and a part of, all that nature is. My respect for the land and waters, and my belief that being alone in it heals the mind as well as the body, may be connected to an ancient Cherokee myth.

 In the 1800's a fellow named James Mooney was allowed by the Cherokee elders to live among them, and to write about the culture of the Ani’-Yun’wiya, “the real people.”

One of the myths Mooney collected in his “The Origin of Disease and Medicine,”demonstrates the Cherokee peoples desire for harmony, and the idea of keeping a natural balance. The story goes like this:

"In the old days, the animals and plants could talk, and they lived together in harmony with humans. But the humans spread over the earth, crowding the animals and the plants out of their homelands and hunting and killing too much. The animal tribes called a council to declare war on the humans. They each selected a disease to send to the humans that could cripple them, make them sick, or kill them.When the plants heard what had been done to the humans, they agreed this action was too severe and called a council of their own. They agreed to be cures for some of the diseases the animals had sent."

In this myth, when the humans destroyed the balance of nature, the animals tried to regain it. But they went too far, so the plants tried to restore the balance by stepping in and helping the humans. The plants yielded up cures for the diseases sent to man. It is through myths and rituals that Native Americans preached and lived a harmonious balance with the natural world we live in.

 One ancient Cherokee ritual that I love, and have known since I was a child, comes to mind as I sit on the log next to the rolling creek. It is called “Going to Water,” it is performed on many occasions — during the new moon, before ceremonial dances, after disturbing dreams, or while one is sick. Going to water cleanses the spirit and the body. The ritual is performed at sunrise. Cherokee men, women, and children face the east and the rising sun, wade into a river or creek, and dip under the water seven times. When they emerge, they are rid of bad feelings and ready to begin anew, with a clear mind.

While on this cold winters day I won't leave the warmth of my clothes and enter these waters, I have performed this ritual and felt it's rejuvenation. I will indulge myself again someday.

 

I full well understand the physiological reasons that exercise, fresh air, change of environment etc... all present to enhance the feeling of health and well being in the body. But, as God is an eternal living spirit, and all of the woods are living things- from the tallest tree to the smallest bacteria- is it any wonder that a person becomes more alive in body and in spirit while they are one with nature? Our hi-tech world of concrete and steel, of immobility and stress, has increasingly separated us from the natural earth from which we were created. It is our great loss.

On this late winters day along the snowy creek bank, I have felt the tension leave my body. My mind has been refreshed by listening to, and feeling, the spirits of the woods. I have breathed the fresh oxygen of peace. I have appreciated the handiwork of God. As I always do when I am close to nature, and therefore close to God, I feel cleansed.

The lengthening of the shadows tells me the day is closing. I turn and  head home, a little reluctantly, but it is time. I have a warm fire waiting, and a hot cup of Jo to drink. A happy shelter is a good thing too.

So I will carry the outside... inside, and relax in the comfort of my blanket covered chair. My mind will be full of simple things, peaceable things. My lungs full of the healing woodland air. My body comforted by the caress from the spirits of the woods.