Christmas Month Puzzle Box 8: On The Matter Of Returning To Our Roots

To where we had set our sights, towards the moist and enchanting dark bosom of dense wilderness, there would be of little use for Samka’s smartphone as once entered such places You were expected to pass up on the dependencies of the modern world, not by choice but by force. The signal reception had vanished, in other words! It made little difference to me, I am always jaunting about, a carefree gypsy of the open road, without a droplet of interest for gizmos, although, the same could not be said for my mate! Her face had turned a tad askew knowing that for the good part of the day she would have no access to her little electronic pet! Since she lacked a pocket large enough to house her device I volunteered to tuck it in my oversize pockets. What gruesomely laborious machines they are, and now that I had it hid away from Samka’s eyes I was more than ever determined to help my friend rediscover the ancient beauty and timeless mystery that lay fertile and in vigil within the dappled-lit kingdom of the green forest, waiting to be explored before us… ♥ 

Leaving the gravel car park, we squashed through a narrow passageway piled with bony-fingered messy twigs that snapped with sharp piercing cries each time we stepped on them. Suddenly, without even noticing it, the world of the familiar light had been left behind and we found ourselves surrounded by hushes of dark green foliage, mushy mounds of mud, and the giant figures of trees, trees and more trees. Endless and everywhere! Some were wrapped in long winding strings of ivy, a consummation between two silent creatures, raw and harmonious that I could not rip my eyes away from them. Other trees were built of trunks whose girth were so large that it would take my entire class to hold hands around it and maybe, even then, require my filching a few other students from other classes to ensure that the entire waist of these giants were accounted for by puny little human hands!

The ground was unpredictable, an uneven stage of surprises and shocks, and I shall own up and tell You that I had the secret pleasure of sliding and swishing down the thickly carpeted hills of wet autumnal leaves, catching sight of darting grey rabbits along the way and dodging the odd whip of branches before it could whack me on the face! Good and simple fun, indeed!

What I loved the most about the forest was its gift to heighten the sounds of our footsteps coming off from the forest floor as if they belonged to a musical instrument for which no training was needed, and that we were somehow all well versed in its appreciation from birth. Perhaps to realise such beautiful things is the reason why the forests were born in the first place. Ah, the muffled and soft footfalls that rose from the ground, and when the twigs that gave way under my feet cracked its crunchy noise, it was almost edible by my ears!

The air in the forest is always enchanted. A tidal wave of secret words pass by around You, everything speaks and incants olden wisdom but should You try to find the mouth of the origin You shall fail, for not a single mouth is seen on sight. A realm teeming with as many answers as there are questions, the forest has learnt over the centuries how to benevolently disturb and yet enthral the imagination, but I never do feel out of my element in these wild rootless worlds of roots. Maps become as dust specks and my Spirit feels free because I have chosen to dare to forge my path amongst the debris and clumps rather than follow the ones that had been previously etched by another visitor. What charismatic irony that to dwell in a forest for even a short while and You come out knowing more than You ever could in even the most advanced cities of the world. I think deep down in all of us, a small part of the brain that deals with the fundamentals of life, has been changelessly printed within it a piece of inherited wisdom that knows that as the sun goes down at the end of our lives, it shall not be in the mausoleum of tall skyscrapers nor near prayer flags of smartphones phone masts but here, under the chirping roofs of the green forest floor, with its crown of mushy mud and gleaming blades of grass, that our bodies will forever cave into eternal sleep…  ♥♥♥

LINK: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/primaryeducation/12038625/Reading-writing-and-mud-the-growth-of-Forest-Schools.html

Christmas Month Puzzle Box 8: On The Matter Of Returning To Our Roots

“… Some were wrapped in long winding strings of ivy, a consummation between two silent creatures, raw and harmonious that I could not rip my eyes away from them …”

Christmas Month Puzzle Box 8: On The Matter Of Returning To Our Roots

“… the giant figures of trees, trees and more trees. Endless and everywhere…”

Christmas Month Puzzle Box 8: On The Matter Of Returning To Our Roots

“… The air in the forest is always enchanted. A tidal wave of secret words pass by around You, everything speaks and incants olden wisdom…”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Sparsholt Countryside|Hampshire | UK 2015

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3 comments

  1. Jonathan Caswell · December 10, 2015

    Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
    THY ROOTS AND TRUNK ARE BEAUTIFUL, OH TREE OF LIFE!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Mazzy · December 13, 2015

      Ah, but dear Sir, I beseech to thou not to leaf out the leaves… 🙂

      Tea leaves of thanks!
      Mazzy 😀 😀

      Like

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