unknown territory.
a morning improvisation:
It’s 8am. The hurricane of humans has just left the house, and I am momentarily left to my own devices.
I step out into the cold morning and wander away from the house, into the woods across the road. Three deer flick their young tails at me, a jay swoops in to announce this new player in the scene. I walk softly between houses barely visible through the trees on either side, choosing damp old leaves for my path. Even though I know I don’t ‘belong’ here, I keep going - I want to know the curve of this place and how it connects to the road below. There’s something steadying about knowing the terrain, not just the paths carved for travel. Also, walking in this nameless forest is the right environment to reflect the unknown territory we are collectively travelling. We are in a no man’s land of viral load, drugs, weather repatterning, and mandated decisions, no matter which vantage point we lookout from. Standing in unmarked woods offers me an embodied sense of the disorientation.
It’s quiet here. There’s a steady decline where I imagine water will flow. Mushrooms bloom their last brilliance.
Suddenly, I look up to see someone bringing their compost out from the nearby wooden house I hadn’t thought was so close. I freeze, knowing I’m likely on ‘their’ land, and not supposed to be here. Everything is more vibrant, more scented, more alive. The rush of soft adrenaline is invigorating, and I finally feel awake to this day.
I spend the next 20 minutes playing a game of staying unseen as I make my way down to the road. Several birds attempt to out me, but the humans refuse to look up from their tasks. At one point, another person walks straight in my direction and I stop stone still behind the spindly tree that happens to be there. As they load up a wheelbarrow with debris I stay put, heart racing. A nearby squirrel pumps their tail at me, cackling: “See? kinda fun isn’t it?” Yes, it is. It’s just the right amount of tension that feels invigorating, not depleting…like a tree that’s healthy enough to bend without breaking.
I make it to the road unseen by several humans, but every single deer, jay, chipmunk, squirrel, and chickadee in a mile radius knows my whereabouts. It’s a little absurd how much we humans miss, surrounded by such deep, diverse communication. In practicing being just another animal walking through the woods, I can get a sense of what it must feel like to have so many others know my business, and have my back. I love this feeling of full body autonomy, yet deeply webbed witnessing.
As I walk up the road toward home, the half moon beams a wide smile above me. Then I spot a chipmunk in mid step on the nearby stump. One eye tracks me inside their full stop. I know now what it feels like to be watched, so I acknowledge briefly, with kindness, then lower my gaze and keep moving.
I know now how empowering it is to be accounted for, yet unthreatened by another. If only us humans could afford each other such diversity, and respect.