A Nocturne for October

 

     How lucky we were having a Silent Walk on this perfect October night. We added this because we wanted a Silent Walk in the fall, different but consistent with the spring. The evening sounds and smells, and especially the moon rise, gave us a chance to recalibrate to forest time.

checking in

     The light was already fading as people arrived. We started in near total darkness, and witnessed a shy moon finally rise above the clouds. Walking tonight was moving through an impressionist's nocturne. Every edge was blurred, every color a soft glow. Pungent smells of decay, the constant rasp of katydids, and too many airplanes revealed the industry around us. We contain multitudes.

    The following are photographs taken by the Silent Walk photographer, Thom Munterich. Included with them are comments written by several of the participants. They offer a sense of the experience, but nothing compares to going on the walk.

 

Jupiter above us

Every time my head said, "Where am I?"

my feet said, "Right here."

Watching the moon clear the horizon made me weep involuntarily. The beauty had to be acknowledged. It was hard to turn away and continue walking.

 

 

With my eyes adjusted to the dark, when the moon rose...for a second it seemed as bright as the sun.

A curious beaver at Aleck Meadow quietly swam over to check us out, then slowly swam away, giving us a thin white wake to follow across the water's glass.  Not so the beaver at the Upper Reservoir, who startled me with each slap. Takes all kinds, I guess.

On the Silent Walk, I notice the transition between thinking and sensing. 

I noticed: How the air moves over the surface of the skin, the pockets of warmth, the smell of still water, how air thickens, the thin layers of fear and bravery when I walked by myself, how time moves differently in the woods. 

I was silent but never quiet.

 At first it was like watching a stage curtained, a slow reveal, a patient audience; and then it was like watching, waiting for a lover to disrobe, full of anticipation, and once revealed, you couldn't look away.

What hit me so hard at first-the various walks (of human history) and 

All the ways in which we walk 

To our death

To live/nomadic at first

For pleasure

In exhaustion

In unison

Alone 

Katydids made the walk different than the spring.

I liked the feeling of different textures underfoot.

Beautiful, peeking moon.

Magical walk in the dark! Can't believe how much you can see. The trees were silver!

 

 

Thanks once a again to Black Rock Forest for supporting The Silent Walks.  Special thanks to Brienne Cliadakis, Susanne Vondrak, Aaron Culotta, Angie Patterson and Matt Brady for all the ways your work has helped the forest and those (like me) who love it. 

Please support Black Rock Forest by becoming a member.