Retreating to the Forest
I'm retreating to the forest, like a monk in a kung fu film. It is time to go away, reflect, and develop as a human being. Develop myself as a creature of the world who wishes to leave it in a better state than when I found it.
In The Tao of Wu, RZA discusses finding an island, like Superman's Cave of Solitude, as a place to get a respite from the outside world. A place for your thoughts to distill and percolate into something new. Something that is uniquely your own without the added influence of the outside world. That book has sat on my pile of toilet reading material for about 15 years. I have probably read it a dozen times, but that island comes back to me again and again.
There are so many pressures in our everyday, ordinary life, coupled with social media and entertainment media and just the things that happen in the world, that idea distillation doesn't happen so easily.
I've visualised my island many times. In meditation and in writing. I've never shared it, though.
For me, there is no island. There is a mountain.
Covered from base to top with trees, dark green trees. It rains there most days, but the sun comes out too. My journey starts at the base, with a clearly defined trail zigzagging up the side of the mountain. The smooth path soon gives way to animal tracks and goat trails that take more work to see. You need to let go. Feel your way through the scrub, letting the plants give way to your feet, if not your legs. It's a process of trust. The march steadily increases from here. A steep incline that makes my quads burn and breathe go heavy. Puffs of condensation fill the air in front of me as I breathe out. It takes close to an hour for me to reach the top. Along the way, I stop and look out over the rest of the forest. I like it here.
At the top is a clearing, a semi-circular line of huge Norfolk Pines, and a simple wooden hut in the middle. A thin wisp of smoke floats up from the chimney. The fire still smoulders from the morning. Inside are all the things I need to dive into a creative flow. A desk by the window overlooks the forested mountain range. A shelf-lined wall filled with books. A simple kitchen. A firm bed. And last, a cozy armchair. All the tools.
This is where I escape to in my mind when the world gets too much. When I feel the relentless urge to make something out of nothing. How I take all the minor elements and fragments of ideas and memories and turn them into something new.
Where do you go?