A tale from the forest

Not more than a week ago, I set off on my daily walk, alone.  My wife, who usually comes with, stayed home to look after the bread she was baking.  I decided to take the route through the forest, since it had been a while.  Last year’s fires had taken quite a toll on the forest, leaving it looking somewhat apocalyptic; a landscape of large, blackened boulders peppered with scores of charred sticks, of various heights, jutting out of the ground.  

Since then, we avoid this route because it’s painful enough to look at, but walking through it was all that much worse.  But my mind took me that way, and that way I went.  The road along the path climbs and winds, like a small mountain road, and with practically no living vegetation.  It was easy to see much farther into the forest than ever.  As I looked through the dead trees, I saw what looked like the back of a figure, leaning against a blackened trunk.  I had seen a few types of animals in that area over the years, but this seemed to be a person.  There was no way I was going to just walk by without at least checking if this person was alright, or even if it was a person.  I slowly made my way over, casually calling out a “hello” so as not to scare whoever might be there.  As I approached, I felt a little tense, since it looked like a person, from behind, but I got no response as I called out.  As I finally faced this figure, I took a step back in disbelief.  Before me was a woman.  She was sitting on a stump, gently leaning back against the dead tree that shadowed her from behind.  Her face was strong, somewhat worn by time, but not too much.  

The colour of her eyes was a mixture of the earth, the sky, and the pastures; her red hair draped over her shoulders. Although I stood in front of her, staring into her face, she saw straight through me.  Before her was the mountainside, laden with blackened granite and scorched trees.  “I can’t understand it”, she said, out of the blue, with a voice that would soothe an untamed beast, but call the attention of a child.  I was at a loss for words.  “Nothing is perfect, and I’ve done everything with as much patience as possible, maybe too much.  Why are you like this?”.  I think she was asking me!  But I didn’t know how to respond.  “I’m sorry”, I blurted out, “Do I know you?”.  Now she was looking at me, I could tell, not with my eyes, but I felt it inside.  “You evolved to be the link, to bring everything together, but it isn’t working”, she said. It was the fact that I felt so small at that moment that made me realize she was speaking to all the Me’s, not just the one standing, feet glued to the ground, in front of her.   “I blame myself”, she continued, “I wanted to be so careful, for the job was of paramount importance, yet this might have been my flaw.  From what I see, your brain isn’t prepared to cope with the speed at which things are changing.  There are those among you developing technologies whose repercussions are not even being studied.  Did I fail, or did you fail?”  I felt like I had to respond, so I asked, “isn’t it still early to make a judgement?  Our brain hasn’t developed for very long, in your great scheme of things.” (by this time I had clued in to the fact that I was conversing with Mother Nature, albeit it didn’t hit me until later).  “You want more time?”, she said with a stern but loving voice, (don’t ask me how).  “Look around you. Look at what you’ve done with the little time you’ve had”, “War, famine, murder, habitat destruction, air pollution, water contamination.  Water.  The very essence of life.  Not to mention the greed”, she looked down.  “But we’ve done many great things, enough to raise hope”, I countered.  She looked up again, straight through me, “I am your hope.  You hope I manage to return what you have destroyed, but it’s not that simple.  I might have ways to resolve the problems you caused, but the consequences may not be what you all hope.  It may be you who suffers the most in the end.  Besides, you have yet to even begin to try and make things right.”, she again looked at me.  “What control do we have?  It’s all in the hands of a few!”  Some of the softness suddenly went out of her face, “you are responsible.  You have control yet allow everything to get worse.  You are afraid, afraid to lose what you have, afraid of all the things you’ve been told would happen if you fell out of line.” She paused, took a deep breath, and looked down once again, “You’re in for some rough weather, which will hopefully set you straight.  I will keep trying to help, after all, you are a part of me, but I warn you, don’t be complacent, it’s what’s gotten you into this mess. Celebrate your winter solstice, enjoy your family, your friends, but don’t forget that time is short.”  I made my way toward her, but she just backed into the tree trunk and promptly disappeared.

  I’ve gone back to the same spot since, hoping to get another chance, but nothing there looks as it did that day.

Fiquem bem,

Raul Freitas/MS