For When the Forest Calls

The following is a set of instructions for those who are ready to hear them.

You will know when it happens. You will not be able to resist, or do much of anything else.

This is not for an if situation. This is for a when. It happens to all of us, eventually.

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Step 1: Hear the Call

You cannot take this step on your own. It happens to you.

It may arrive slowly, almost politely, or it may strike all at once, like a bucket of ice water, sharp enough to drown out every other thought. Either way, once you hear it, the sound of wind in the trees will begin to stand out from all other noise. The susurration will wrap around you, luxuriant and insistent, and you will feel yourself being pulled toward the woods whether you meant to go or not.

This is not something you can unhear.

This is when the deep, unknowable longing begins. It will ache, this is normal.

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Step 2: Assess Your Surroundings

Look around you carefully.

Are you in a city, somewhere paved and dense, where nature appears only in small, stubborn patches? Are you far from land, on a boat, with only the song of whales to distract you from the call? Or are you already close enough to see the edge of the forest, where even a brief glance is enough to loosen your footing and send you stumbling toward it?

You will know when the time is right. The time is never wrong.

What you are actually determining is whether it is safe to begin. You cannot follow the call if something else takes you first. The forest is patient, but the ocean does not negotiate, and the city is ruthless.

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Step 3: Find Your Nearest Forest

You may not know exactly where it is, but you will feel the pull in a particular direction. Follow that.

Consider what kind of forest you need. Do you require moss? If so, you will want something temperate and damp, a place that holds water gently. Are you drawn to a certain tree, a certain scent? Be specific. Do your research. This matters more than you think.

The wrong forest will still take you. It just may not do so kindly.

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Step 4: Offerings

Once you know which forest is calling you, you must decide what to bring.

You, of course, are included, but you are not enough on your own. The forest has its own hungers.

Some people bring a song, sung aloud as they cross the threshold. Others bring seeds (NOTE: Seeds must be from local wildflowers only. Do not bring seeds from other regions. The forest will notice, and it will not appreciate the gesture). Acceptable offerings also include hand-made objects, a well-cooked meal, bone ash, or baby teeth (preferably your own, so the forest can become familiar with you before taking the rest).

Arriving without an offering is possible. It is not recommended.

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Step 5: Arrangements

Choose your route carefully. Find the most efficient path to the forest.

You may take your time, but only if that time is spent well: watching clouds drift, listening to water move over stone, breathing in wildflowers, feeding ducks. Lingering is allowed when it is done with attention.

There are other arrangements to consider:

• Who will care for your pets? Raise your kids (if you have them)?
• Who will water your plants? (this is very important)

Whether these things matter to you anymore depends entirely on how loud the call has become. When it is quiet, you will worry. When it grows louder, concern begins to feel irrelevant.

Some people skip this step entirely. They are not wrong.

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Step 6: Enter the Forest

It has been waiting.

The trees remember you, even if you do not remember them. They hold water that was once your tears. You have shared breath before. The wind has been carrying their songs to you since you were young enough to mistake them for background noise.

Step between the trunks. Mind the thorns, they exist to turn away those who do not hear the call. The moss will be there to greet you. The birds will already know.

Follow them. They will take you deeper.

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Step 7: Notice

Nothing truly happens until you learn how to see.

Notice the lichen. The improbable colors of slime mold. Speak to the squirrels, even if you feel foolish. Let your hand pass through the ferns that pool in shadow along the forest floor.

Now look up.

Watch how the trees stretch toward the sky, up and up, without hesitation. There is no horizon here, only height and depth. Notice the pull again, the call that brought you here. By now it should be loud, almost unbearable. Loud enough to rattle your bones.

If it is screaming, ask yourself: are you screaming back?

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Step 8: Integrate

You will know when you have reached the right place.

When all signs of human interference fade (no engines, no voices, no distant implications), you may finally rest. Find a good patch of moss. If it is autumn, a pile of fallen leaves will work just as well.

Lie down.

You will feel heavy. This is expected. The weight will press your shoulders into the earth, anchoring you so thoroughly that it may feel as though, if not for the moss, you might fall straight through, down into root and soil and dark.

Exhale. Let it happen.

The birds will sing to you now.

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Step 9: Let the Forest Take You

You have done everything required.

You belong to the forest now. You always did. The call was simply the reminder.

Close your eyes.