the clearest way into the universe

The forest is a part of my soul. I have grown up with it like a silence inside me that calms anxiety. The silence of it in autumn, with only the whispering of a wind setting heavy spruce branches in motion, the lonely call of a bird. The vibrant energy of it in spring and summer, with a thousand birds singing and everything exploding into joyous life.

The fragrance of it. Rich earth and moss, spicy scents of spruce needles, a honey note of flowers.

I played in the forest as a kid and walked in it with my father, in wellies and with bucket in hand, to pick blueberries and lingonberries. I wandered in it as a lonely teenager with a trusty dog as my companion. The moss was soft under my feet, the quiet of the wilderness was soothing. I discovered strange things and wondered, with a shiver of fear, if a bulky shadow was going to turn out to be an elk or bear.

At times, the mere idea of the forest can intimidate me. It is too vast, too strange, too dark in every sense of the word.

The forest is a place of thoughts. Of dreams. I'm in a world bursting with life that humans know nothing about. I can walk for hours and not reach the end of it and never be within a mile of a human being. I can get hopelessly lost. It is a place where everything is born, lives and dies without anyone noticing or remembering. This is the landscape of my forefathers. They walked among ancient trees and dreamed, and now they are gone.

The solitude, the purity and the feeling of infinity. If you want to feel safe, go and lean against an old tree that goes nowhere for a hundred years but slowly and steadily reaches for the stars. Press your face against the sweet-smelling bark. Experience creation.