forest

Finding Oneness

/ boz bozeman / Leave a comment

When the relevance of numbers disappears, that’s oneness.  

I thought of this while walking a path bathed in yellow pine needles. With the word “bathed”, I’m trying to express the expanse of the needles. Pressed under my feet, stretching behind me and ahead. Blanketing the woods to either side. Surrounding me in every direction, even beyond my view.  

I think of the process of counting each one. I try to glimpse meaning beyond the absurdity of the task. Absurd because how long would it take to even count the number in ten square feet, never mind the huge expanse in Great Pond State Forest? 

When the relevance of numbers disappears, that’s oneness.  

My idea is attempting to express the woven unity of this carpet of needles. A vast, interlinked skein. Yes, made of individual shafts, but the repetition speaks to me a giant tan fabric. Is not fabric made of many threads connected? Many elements woven together to make one. 

Envisioning this helps me better understand the Taoist concept of merging the truth of individuality within the connection of totality. Losing numbers in this small world of pine needles connects me to the immense unity that I am a part of and apart from. 

Great Pond State Forest

/ boz bozeman / 1 Comment

The cover of my poetry book Self of Steam is a picture I took at Great Pond State Forest. The pond was iced over, and the reflection of the forest was ghostly. I thought the picture evoked the title of the book, and the spirit of the poem that it is named after.

Click the cover to purchase my book from Amazon.

I call the tall tree in the upper center of the picture “Great Tree”. I came up with this name to reflect its location by Great Pond, but also because I believe it is the tallest tree in the forest. I like to stand underneath it, appreciating its thick bole and impressive height.

Anna and I went to see our friends today. The above video gives a sense of how towering Great Tree is.

This is Brain Rock. Another of my friends in the woods. I like to stop and visit with both of them. They remind me to slow down, clear my thoughts, and appreciate what is around me.

The end of numbers

/ boz bozeman / 3 Comments

When the relevance of numbers disappears, that’s oneness.  

I thought of this while walking a path bathed in yellow pine needles. With the word “bathed”, I’m trying to express the expanse of the needles. Pressed under my feet, stretching behind me and ahead. Blanketing the woods to either side. Stretching in every direction beyond my view.  

I think of the process of counting each one. I try to glimpse meaning beyond the absurdity of the task. Absurd because how long would it take to even count the number in ten square feet, never mind the huge expanse in Great Pond State Forest?

When the relevance of numbers disappears, that’s oneness.  

The idea is attempting to express the woven unity of this carpet of needles. A vast, interlinked skein. Yes, made of individual shafts, but the repetition speaks to me a giant tan fabric. Is not fabric made of many connected threads? 

Envisioning this helps me better understand the Taoist concept of merging the truth of individuality within the connection of totality. Losing numbers in this small world of pine needles, that are losing their color and returning to the earth, connects me to the immense unity that I am apart from and a part of. 

Cleaning up in the Forest

/ boz bozeman / Leave a comment

I have often entered the woods carrying my burdens like a heavy backpack. The first part of my hike is spent thinking, pondering, stressing. Replaying problems or anticipating future roadblocks. Sometimes my thoughts are in a tangle, others they are firmly focused on the issue I am dealing with. 

Yet, as I step along, Anna trotting ahead of me, my worries begin to dissipate. Sometimes I have arrived at the solution, but many times my concerns are tread into the path, taken in by the trees. Like they turn carbon into oxygen, the leaves filter my thoughts until I am left with peace. 

I have brought some pretty serious problems with me into the forest, but I can’t remember one time that I left without feeling some relief, some belief that I will figure it out and things will be OK. At times, I am even given an epiphany.

The woods come with many gifts, but their ability to soothe, to take me in and change me, is one that I reverence always. I often say my thanks out loud to the trees: the best I can do to repay them for this free service.  

If you like my writing, you should check out my book: Tao of Thoreau

Subtle Part of the Forest

/ boz bozeman / 5 Comments 
In his story,
My student wrote:
“our parents decided to move to a more suttle part of the forest.”

Yes, he misspelled the word. 
And he was misusing it even if he spelled it right.

But I'm not taking points off.

Because now I want to move
To a more subtle part of the forest.
 
A place off the path,
But just off the path,
A place that everyone passes 
But not everyone sees.

A clearing bounded 
by pine needles and leaves.
Within, giving loamy earth.
The air
is the mingling scents of green. 

Sun light rays down 
Defining trees
Giving them their shadows.
Forest dust shapes the sun shafts
that shooting-star bugs plunge through.