Hope in the Forest

Sharing Stories

September 13, 2022 at 5:32 p.m.

James Stewart Memorial Park Trees

...by Mandy Neill

Hope in the Forest

The place where I most encounter hope is in the forest…for two reasons.

The first is that it brings perspective. In my day to day living, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by all that seems “wrong” around me. My son shouldn’t have to struggle with a brain that won’t cooperate. My immune system shouldn’t occasionally attack itself. Our political leaders shouldn’t be swayed by money over quality of life. People shouldn’t have to experience homelessness on our neighborhood streets. Climate change, salmon decrease, plastic pollution, and wildfires shouldn’t be plaguing our earth.
I feel compelled to fix them all, and then veer into feelings of hopelessness. In reality, I can’t fix a single one of these systemic injustices.

It’s then that I take to the forest.

A few years ago, I finally realized why the forest has always been my place of serenity. It’s because it is the one place where nothing needs to be fixed.
Yes, I’m confronted in the woods with the seemingly imperfect sight of detritus and decaying wood. However, I know that these apparent imperfections are actually necessary to feed new life. Death is needed if anything new or hope-filled is to emerge. It’s a perfect cycle, even in its imperfections.

I hike through the woods and am greeted by scene after scene that look like an artist’s perfectly arranged still-life. Fern-covered stumps sit in the shelter of alpine evergreen boughs. These landscape scenes haven’t yet been spoiled by our over-reaching human population.

They exist apart from our interference and yet, are more beautiful than even the most artistic human could create. They are untouched by the hopelessness that’s endemic to the cities around them. Instead, they are temples of hope: self-sufficient, constantly recycling death into new life, living in reliance on one another. And in the process, they even create the very air we humans need to survive.

When I’m hiking in their midst, the sprawling mountain vistas and towering tree trunks put my momentary troubles into perspective. They call my attention back to the presence of a Divine Creative force—one of love and hope bigger than myself, one that will always win out.

The second reason that I find hope in the forest is a bodily one. For 18 years, I was unable to hike. The inflammation in my body from my auto-immune conditions prohibited too much physical exertion. So, I resigned myself to easy walks through Carkeek Park whenever I sought the solace of nature.

However, I was shocked to find that after my inflamed colon was removed last spring, I suddenly had more than enough energy for hiking and was out on the trails less than three months after surgery.

Following surgery last May, I spent the summer hiking almost every weekend. Each trail I experienced seemed to exceed the last in breathtaking summit views. The anticipation of a mountain vista or alpine lake view became like an addictive drug—propelling me forward. Even that new feeling of finally employing the big muscles in my legs to propel my body farther and farther uphill morphed into a craving that I happily indulged.

For the first time, my body was able to do what I wanted it to do!

There hasn’t been a single hike since that realization which hasn’t failed to amaze me. I might have to poop into a bag for the rest of my life, but at least now my body can carry me up some of the highest peaks in our corner of the world. And I realize that after almost two decades of fearing the worst (losing my colon), the “worst” has happened and I’m so much better for it. Maybe all the other “worsts” about our world that I fear in my moments of hopelessness will also turn out for the better?

Here’s hoping.

Mandy Neill is a Washington writer, mother, and lover of forests. (Fallen tree photo also taken at James Stewart Memorial Park.)

SHARING STORIES is a weekly column for and about the 50 plus crowd living in the Puget Sound region. Send your stories and photos to ariele@comcast.net. Tell local or personal stories; discuss concerns around aging and other issues; share solutions, good luck, and reasons to celebrate; poems are fine too. Pieces may be edited or excerpted. We reserve the right to select among pieces. Photos are always a plus and a one-sentence bio is requested (where you live, maybe age or career, retired status, etc.).
SHARING STORIES is featured on www.northwestprimetime.com, the website
for Northwest Prime Time, a monthly publication for baby boomers, seniors, retirees, and those contemplating retirement. For more information, call 206-824-8600 or visit www.northwestprimetime.com. To find other SHARING STORIES articles on this website type "sharing stories" or a writer’s name into the search function above.