Woods Wanderer

Last fall I published a collection of prose poems and taut paragraphs regarding the mystical realm, Apprehensions of What-Is. The first draft of that work came to me in three days. The material for this book, Philosophical Fragments, spans three decades (1987-2013). I’ve selected aphorisms and stand-alone paragraphs from four published chapbooks, one unpublished manuscript, and philosophy journals kept during that period. Unlike last fall’s publication, this book is more a product of the rational side of my brain than the intuitive/creative side. It all comes from the same source, of course.

Philosophical Fragments tracks the evolution of my worldview from a somewhat conventional way of seeing things to a more pantheistic perspective. It’s the direct result of 40-plus years of woods wandering. While I’ve read thousands of books –– mostly science, history, philosophy and religion –– it’s the natural world that has shaped my worldview. Consequently, nature looms large here. That said, the early not-so-naturalistic fragments still have some value, I think –– if not insightful, then at least entertaining. You, dear readers, are welcome to make what you will of my blather.

This book is now available at Amazon.com. It can also be purchased at my website, woodthrushbooks.com. Check it out.

Tags: aphorisms, existentialism, natural philosophy, nature, pantheism, philosophy, philosophy of wildness

I’ve waited a week and am glad I did. Temps have risen into the 20s already this morning. No wind. Clouds instead of sun but that’s okay. I step out of my car, parked at the bottom of the woods road, to assess the snow conditions. Should I use snowshoes or microspikes? There’s only 3-4 inches of snow on the ground, but there will be more by the time I leave the road and enter the woods. I strap on my snowshoes.

The snow on the narrow woods road has been packed by other people. My snowshoes barely make an imprint in it as I creep steadily uphill. I’ll be stepping away from the beaten path soon. In my daypack is all I need to survive the night if it comes to that. When bushwhacking alone in the winter I like to be prepared.

A mile into the mountains I leave the woods road, following a set of barely visible tracks in the fresh snow. There’s a little more than half a foot of snow here. My Green Mountain Bear Paws sink only a couple inches into it. I slowly make tracks, stopping frequently to enjoy the surroundings. Snow clings to the branches of trees and covers everything else. I cross a set of fresh deer tracks, cutting my pace even more. There’s no reason to rush.

Beyond a small clearing there’s no semblance of a trail at all. I’m truly bushwhacking now and loving it. Running wild. My thoughts are running wild, as well, though I’m focused for the most part on finding the easiest route through the woods. I keep to the right of a mountain brook. I step gingerly over the smaller streams feeding the brook. Ice breaks underfoot.

Downed trees are obstacles to negotiate carefully. I sidestep them when possible. I slip and fall once, brush off the snow then keep going. Reaching an old campsite, I fashion my foam pad into a seat against a tree. I sit and listen to the brook murmuring beneath the ice and snow. It’s the only sound breaking the silence. Stillness and silence in the deep winter forest –– there’s nothing like it.

Snowshoeing out, I retrace my steps. My tracks into the woods are the obvious path to follow now. I don another layer to keep from cooling down too much. By the time I reach the bottom of the woods road, I’m a little giddy. All the stinky thoughts I had at the beginning of the day have washed away. Good outing.

Tags: bushwhacking, hiking alone, running wild, snowshoeing, The Green Mountains, winter woods