An Enchanted Forest

It is not every day that I find magic in the city. No, that's not quite right. I'll try again...

It is not every day that I allow time to find magic in the city. As I rush from point A to B, I award very little attention for the slow moving pace of nymphs and creatures everlasting. But they are here regardless of my notice, hidden in the cracks of sidewalks and the limbs of painted trees. I was given a short break in my otherwise task filled day to meander a park and forget the city. I found an enchanted forest among the populated hills and concrete blocked buildings. Magic jumped from a crevice, shook off the sluggishness of eternity and said, "Yes, life is worth living. I will show you."

I was led, hand in hand with Eternity, to see the gift of Autumn.



We walked first through the ravine floor- black with mud and fertile from years of vegetation falling in on itself. The warmth of a spring sun encouraging trees to reach and stretch toward the bluing sky, grow large with maturing green, sour at the retreating day and collapse heartbroken and happy to the earth below. The sun will leave the trees here, sleeping quietly while hearts mend, courage builds and life erupts once again from the false graves of decay and mud. Among the trunks and roots of giants, I felt the tension of this delicate dance outside myself; my own yearning sundial assuaged by the cyclical nature of this and all seasons.


From the ground, we climbed out of the mud and to the skies, mimicking yawn and stretch of spring while surrounded by a restive dying. The beauty swept my breath away as hills of golden tree tops spread out in every direction. Where had the city gone, less than half a mile away? I watched leafy bodies bigger than my two hands give themselves up and float gracefully to the ground far, far below. The wind they disturbed whispered from the ravine, Goodbye now, until we meet again. Here, in the enchantment of this forest, I was flying. I could watch leaves and let them fall without feeling the familiar pull on my own body to glide with them. Goodbye for now. Sleep sweet until we meet again.







In the fall, I feel driven to the brink of sanity by a nervous fear. I watch as the world grows more and more beautiful with the break of every new dawn and every waning evening. I panic, knowing that this moment is the most beautiful I have ever seen- no other moment in my life will surpass the glowing reds and burning yellows completely filling my vision. Life takes on an urgency to live- and to live to the fullest, instantly, for tomorrow we die. But how can I gather my rosebuds, I think desperately when the world is conjuring up the biggest grand finale I have ever seen? How can I forgive myself if I miss the standing ovation and chance of encore? So instead I watch, entranced in the dance of the dying world without realizing that I am not myself dancing and dying. The line between performer and audience becomes hopelessly blurred.

From my perch at tree canopy tops, I am momentarily gifted with sight usually reserved for gods and immortals- Eternity introduces me to the strength and perseverance of an endless cycle between sky and earth and tree and light. Tomorrow the beauty may be gone, but only dead for a season before returning once again. The natural world has a strength to push past death to rebirth that I am not meant to follow lest it destroy me and I collapse on myself in one fatal breath. Perhaps we experience rebirth in the end, but my strength comes in moving through rather than up and down and up again. Returning to the city from the park, I am finally ready to let go and whisper with the approaching night, "Yes, life is very much worth living."