On this bitterly cold day across most of the United States, I come to you from Bergen, Norway, where I am spending the Christmas holiday with family. One Christmas while in the Colorado mountains, I was overwhelmed by the season – too much emphasis on buying the next big thing for gifts, frantically shopping, cooking, sending out cards, and ensuring everything was perfect. I took a walk in the woods to clear my head and breathe. I thought I’d reshare this post I wrote when I emerged from that walk. 
I walked through the woods, surrounded by towering pines covered in a thick icing of fresh powdery snow. The fluffy flakes drifted onto my exposed face as I hiked down the path deserted of sound and humans. Other than my breath and the trickle of the stream that wound its way through the knowing and wise trees, it was pure silence. The kind of noiselessness that only comes under water or falling snow. There is a feeling that comes in this quiet where I can meditate under the mantra of nature, with only the lull of the flowing water and an occasional call of wildlife reminding me that I am not completely alone. 
I am content with where my heart dwells within this magnificent cocoon of elegant creation. Quietly broken, sometimes unnoticed, and yet loved and whole, I step across each patch of delicately cast snowflakes in a place where certainly others have walked, but they, like me, walked softly, not wanting to leave more than a temporary trace in a slowly disappearing footprint in the snow. While the hustle and bustle of the holiday season marches into full swing, I am here, in the quiet and poetic solace of a place worthy of the words of Thoreau’s, On Walden Pond, a moment when I am completely present in time and surroundings. Breathe…walk…I think about my life; I chat with my mother, knowing well that she must be walking next to me as this was scenery she would have loved. I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. – Henry D. Thoreau I walk out from the forest revived, centered, and grateful. This is a beautiful world.
I walked through the woods, surrounded by towering pines covered in a thick icing of fresh powdery snow. The fluffy flakes drifted onto my exposed face as I hiked down the path deserted of sound and humans. Other than my breath and the trickle of the stream that wound its way through the knowing and wise trees, it was pure silence. The kind of noiselessness that only comes under water or falling snow. There is a feeling that comes in this quiet where I can meditate under the mantra of nature, with only the lull of the flowing water and an occasional call of wildlife reminding me that I am not completely alone. I am content with where my heart dwells within this magnificent cocoon of elegant creation. Quietly broken, sometimes unnoticed, and yet loved and whole, I step across each patch of delicately cast snowflakes in a place where certainly others have walked, but they, like me, walked softly, not wanting to leave more than a temporary trace in a slowly disappearing footprint in the snow. While the hustle and bustle of the holiday season marches into full swing, I am here, in the quiet and poetic solace of a place worthy of the words of Thoreau’s, On Walden Pond, a moment when I am completely present in time and surroundings. Breathe…walk…I think about my life; I chat with my mother, knowing well that she must be walking next to me as this was scenery she would have loved. I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. – Henry D. Thoreau I walk out from the forest revived, centered, and grateful. This is a beautiful world.
Wherever you are, I hope you can find a quiet space to reflect and breathe for a few moments, and emerge from your cocoon with gratitude for yourself, your loved ones, and find peace and hope.
Happy Holidays to you and yours,
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