Some of the places I see in the woods look scary. Trees bent and twisted, gnarly to the point of almost taunting, “Don’t even think of coming in here.” Trunks bare of bark. Some uprooted, their weight supported by the body of others where they have landed. Some with scars which evidence the trauma they have experienced. Sunlight, barely penetrates their branches, twisted and hooked into one other. Leaves or green sprouts are sparse and lonely looking. It would be easy turn to the light at these times and keep moving and yet, their draw is like that of the the flame to the moth.

Often, when I pass one of these spots I stop and take a few pictures. Always hoping to capture the feeling they cloak upon the soul. Their effect is paradoxical in nature to the spirit. On one hand, a desire, a pull, a curiosity to enter and explore the dark, dank mysterious region, while on the other hand, the experience of fear; a gut level, primordial fear. A fear that is the breeding ground of all the neurotic behaviors I have ever manifested. A fear so deep it is hard to admit to the self.

None of these pictures have been able, yet, to capture the feeling. Not really certain it is possible. Post production work in PhotoShop has yet to allow the siphoning of the feelings produced by the woods to enter the visual realm; the personal mastery of the program seems not sufficient to rise to the challenge.

I believe what draws me to stop at these spots is the way these sections of the woods resemble the way my brain can be at times. The thoughts get twisted and gnarly. The darkness that I try to ignore, illuminates (as only darkness can illuminate and amplify) the thoughts I am afraid to look at and reveal to myself. So, mustering every ounce of bravery within my being, I try to build walls to protect myself, from myself. You may ask, “How well has that worked,” to which I would have to reply, “Not very well.”

Unlike the thickets in the woods where I have yet to summon the courage to enter, I find that even the barriers so carefully constructed, have little ability to keep me out of those dark regions of my mind. Sometimes, I enter slowly, cautiously, pulled by what force I do not know, and on other occasions, I find myself completely lost in their maze before I even realize I have entered the darkness. A sense of panic can set in while a feeling of hopelessness or despair envelops my awareness. I would seem lost here but for the fact that there is a sense of familiarity in this place. It is in truth, the same place every time, over and over; just a manifestation of the same fears wearing a different face. Left unchecked they can snowball my behavior into a temperament that is unworthy of human companionship at that time. At this point I have lost the light of my being.

While it would be easy to succumb to this state, it does not have to be that way. There is a process of learning, of awakening. It is a path of awareness, which is liberating. It is a path which encourages developing the ability to allow the light to enter, and to use it to examine the darkness. The gnarled trucks, the trees with no bark for protection, the darkness only have the power of fear allowed by secrecy and avoidance. The pain from the scars lessens as they are exposed to the healing of the light. Self-compassion seems to be a powerful salve which bears no fear of overdose.

The willingness to look into these area and accept all aspects of human nature is a tool that allows for understanding and acceptance. The light is entering the dark places. As I open to the understanding that the path is the path and all components have equal value. The woods are a silent and benevolent teacher.