After a full day of work and between bursts of torrential rain, I decided to head out towards Montgomery Woods to spend the night. This is a place I visit often (though not often enough), and after a delightfully picturesque drive up Orr Springs Road, I tucked my van into a pullout on the side of the road I’d been eyeing for years but never taken advantage of. Parked alongside a full and flowing creek and surrounded by ancient redwood trees, I left the warm confines of my home on wheels and walked up the road in the growing darkness. The sound of water was everywhere. The cold dampness of the primordial forest filling my nostrils and lungs. THIS is the place I’d love to spend every night if it were possible. Upon my return to the van, I cooked myself some dinner, cleaned up, then made up my bed and pulled out my computer to write. I sat reflecting on all the feelings and thoughts that’ve been jostling in me all week, and for the last couple of weeks as well, which I wasn’t fully aware of until I found myself out of cell service and settled in the dark blanket of a rainy forest night. Feeling unmoored. Unsettled. Anxious. Crowded. Disorganized. Excited for my future. Afraid of what the future might bring.
The soothing patter of the rain on the roof, the whooshing of the creek just 15 feet away, and the solitude were just what I needed to settle those things out a bit. To bring myself back to something bigger than me, indifferent to me, but inviting me to sit and be quiet and listen and breathe.