While walking through the woods in Virginia,
I stepped off the path.
I had noticed that most of the path was covered by leaves.
It still showed its face here and there,
As well as the markings on the trees,
The green and red blotches of paint.
But all of a sudden I realized both the path was gone and the red and green blotches.
It was quiet though,
And that was the main reason that I went for a walk in the woods.
I wanted to find a place where the sounds of the city,
The suburbs,
The tumult,
The heavy air,
The noise,
Confusion,
Horn blowing,
Traffic light waiting,
Supermarket counter rushing to get through,
To leave all that behind,
Just for a while.
So I came to the woods,
Took the path,
And oddly enough,
Although I know my way back,
The sensation of being off the path is similar to the confusion of being on the sidewalk with the noise and tumult around.
So I sat down,
Closed my eyes,
Placed attention on my breath,
And imagined I was at the bottom floor of an open-air elevator on the outside of a 50-story building,
And the elevator started going up.
As I looked down about 10 stories,
Everything looked a little bit smaller,
The noise was a little bit softer,
Even the air felt a little bit fresher.
Went up to the 20th floor,
Looked down again,
And again everything looked smaller,
The air was even fresher,
And the noise had become just a hum,
Barely recognizable as all the sounds morphed into one.
Wrote up to the 30th floor,
And it was becoming much quieter,
More open,
More at ease.
Went up to the 50th floor,
I looked down,
Just seeing the tops of people's heads and their shoulders,
Not hearing any of the noise,
The air was fresh and clean,
And I decided the anxiety of being at the ground level was gone.
Coming back to the woods,
Maybe I could climb a tree.
Give me that vantage,
That viewpoint of seeing the big picture,
At the same time still being here.
I think that's the whole secret.
Seeing the universal,
The bigger the picture,
And the smaller the detail,
Both at the same time.
