Freedom in the Woods

Weekly wisdom to bring you home, in 2 minutes.

A SHORT STORY

This past weekend, I went into the woods with a group of men to understand how we can become great fathers.

We built primitive shelters, slept in 15-degree weather, and learned how to make fire. We reconnected with the land around us and with each other.

In the woods, I was reminded that in an age of acceleration, nothing can feel more exhilarating than going slow. After many years of befriending nomads across the world, I was reminded what I learned from them - how easy it is to forget that we belong to nature. Out there, everything feels alive. Everything becomes a reminder of life.

I kept thinking about a conversation I once had with my friend Ahmed, a Bedouin from Egypt.

I asked him why he returned to the old way of living.

Why go back?

His answer was simple:

"It made me feel free."

Those words stayed with me this weekend.

As I reflect on what I learned in the woods, I keep returning to that idea of freedom.

And how sometimes stepping away from the noise of modern life and returning to something more elemental helps us remember what truly matters.

A POEM

“How I Go Into the Woods” by Mary Oliver

Ordinarily I go to the woods alone,
with not a single friend,
for they are all smilers and talkers
and therefore unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree.
I have my ways of praying,
as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone
I can become invisible.
I can sit on the top of a dune
as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned.
I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me,
I must love you very much.

Grateful,

Michael