Wooded Sanctum

There was just something about the forest that always drew him in. Maybe it was how the setting sun played off the vibrant green leaves as it snuck below the horizon every evening. Or how fresh it all smelled. When he was little, he remembered running down the paths behind his house, deeper and deeper, until he felt completely lost and dropped down onto his back. Just lying there soaking everything in. He loved how the rays of sunlight scattered over his body - shattered by all the limbs of the canopy above him, the plushness of the grass and moss beneath his body, cushioning him against the dirt and rocks. But most of all he loved the sounds. The different birds carrying on conversations across the path, the bugs buzzing away, hidden by the tall grass and shrubs, but mainly the wind. How it just flowed through all the life - finding its way through the endless maze of trees, barely audible. Like a distant ocean. Churning off in the distance, not ever present enough to warrant a distraction.

As he grew older, his relationship with nature only grew. He continued on his path, joining the boy scouts and learning to appreciate it that much more. He learned to care for it, how to live off of it by living with it - not diminishing or destroying it. As the years passed, his experiences only grew. By the time he was young man he could survive in the wilderness by himself without any issues. He could walk into the woods on a Friday evening, with just the clothes on his back and a tent and walk out the following Sunday. It no longer was a area he could escape to in order to hide from the rest of the world. It was becoming his home. His sanctum. Every time he stepped foot within, a piece of him became more attached to the environment around him. He could feel his roots beginning to finally grow and take hold. There wasn't anywhere else he desired to be.

But then life demanded he return. And his career began - a complete one-eighty from what he was used to but more importantly what he wanted. Days of strolling aimlessly down barely trekked paths had become daunting walks down concrete corridors. Thin nylon walls where the wind could once blow through and cool him in the middle of the night soon became ugly, solid cubicles. Undistinguishable from the last. His activity throughout the day was no longer determined by the height of the sun but by the queue of emails that flashed on his computer screen.  His skin had paled, become soft - forgotten what it was like to be used for physical activity. The air was stale and lacking life. Each day he sat there, the more he felt like he was rotting away - guilty that he had abandoned the thing he lived.

So one day he packed up and left.

When he got to the head of the trail, he could hardly contain his excitement. He was ready to dive back into the lush green that stretched on before him - to regain his trust with Mother Nature. But this time it was a little different. Upon his back was a bag stuffed to capacity with spare clothes, first aid supplies, a couple rations of food and a few other assorted objects.

For you see, he wasn't planning on coming back for some time.