Into the Woods

 Into the Woods
 
 As kids, my siblings and cousins, seven of us, would explore the 365 acres of wooded land around my grandparents’ summer place in Bradford, Vermont. There were riding trails and old logging roads that led down to the Wait’s River and around Mack Mountain. When I think about it now, I wonder if seven kids, ranging in age from about seven to twelve would be allowed to take off into the woods today, unsupervised, for the afternoon. But our parents were apparently confident that we knew our way around the woods and couldn’t get into too much trouble. As we ventured down the hill from the old farmhouse, we would be remined of the one rule that governed our adventures. “If you get lost, stay together and stay put. We will come find you,” we were told, and we were reassured enough by that idea that we never doubted that we were anything but safe in the woods.
   As a young kid, the only other reference I had to the possibility of getting lost in the woods came from Winnie the Pooh. In one story, Pooh and Piglet venture out into the Hundred Acre Wood in search of Woozles and soon get lost. They follow footprints around a tree, and are puzzled as they discover more and more footprints. The illustrations show the bear and his friend following their own tracks in circles.
   Recently I heard a man describe a time in his life when he felt lost, without direction, and meandering a bit in life, directionless in his faith and purpose. He explained that he then remembered his father’s advice about being lost in the woods and applied it to his life. The instruction he had been given by his dad was to follow a stream if he found himself lost in the woods. His father had explained that a stream would lead him out of the wood eventually, and keep him from unconsciously walking in circles. (Advice that A.A. Milne had not imparted on Pooh and Piglet.) He went on to explain what “stream” it was that he followed out of his my recent “woods.”
   As assured as I was that my parents and aunt and uncle would find us if we became lost in the woods, I realized that was a rescue method that we soon outgrow. As much as I would have liked to at times, as an adult I realized I can’t sit and wait for someone to find me when I’m lost. Rescues don’t happen like that in the woods of real life. We are responsible for getting ourselves found, unstuck, discovered, untethered, and out of the woods. The stream I usually follow is banked by friends and family. Sometimes they wade in with me. Sometimes they sit down next to me on a rock while I rest for a bit. For others, their stream may be time away from the crowds to focus on new priorities or new perspectives. Sometimes the stream that leads us to safety is simply the passage of time that allows for some healing.
   Author Glennon Doyle in her book Untamed writes about her discovery of the “touch tree” method of finding one’s way out of the woods. She suggests finding a touch tree, a big, identifiable tree that one can use as a landmark to venture away from while looking for a way out, but also to return to if needed. Then she eloquently describes how she has become her own touch tree in life, as she relies on herself to find her way out of whatever woods she is confronted with. “I’ve spent much of my life lost in the woods of pain, relationships, religion, career, service, success, and failure. Looking back on those times, I can trace my lostness to a decision to make something outside of myself my Touch Tree….Now when I feel lost, I remember that I am not in the woods. So, return to myself and reinhabit myself. As I do, I feel my chin rise and my body straighten,” she writes.
   I’m grateful that my brother and sisters and cousins and I were allowed to venture out and roam the woods without the fear of getting lost, convinced that we would be found if we needed to be. And I’m also grateful that I can now rely on a stream of family and friends to carry me along when I am lost and in need of finding my way home. And in the meantime, I am working on becoming my own touch tree.