“We are more often frightened than hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from reality.” Seneca

Running

There’s a crispness to the air this evening. I nearly decided to wear a jacket, but the cool air feels good on my skin. It calms the nerves I so desperately want relief from, but that didn’t stop me from wearing my favorite scarf. I love autumn.

When I come to these woods it’s an escape from reality. There’s no city, no people–just me and nature. I can run away and get lost in the beauty of the earth.

The trees are thick here. I like it that way. A trail with few trees is a cheap knockoff. Never as good as the real thing.

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath my feet as I walk along. This place is enchanting. Above, the canopy is thickly blanketed, with hints of sun sneaking through gaps in the branches and leaves. I want to follow the light, but I can’t see it all the time. It comes in and out like a flashlight flickering slowly on and off. It’s easier to just make do with what little light I have and make traverse the darkness I guess.

But that’s okay. I can make it through, I tell myself. This is still my favorite place, even though it can be a bit scary at times.

The leaves bustle and blow about gently amongst themselves–each living its own life while barely interacting with those they bump into.

Alone, these leaves are just a brief moment in the life of the tree, but together they make up an awe-inspiring image. Something beautiful to behold. And yet when I look at each carefully, I can’t help but be swept away by the intricate genius of its makeup. Each unique. Each special. Some with bright spots, others with subtle blemishes, and scattered throughout, some with whole parts missing, completely deformed amongst the rest of the woods. They’re called to be in community with each other, all centered around their tree. Their giver of life.

As I walk through this fairy tale place a leaf blows along my feet as if it’s following me.

“I don’t know where I’m going little one. You may not want to follow me.”

This leaf clearly doesn’t know how I’m feeling right now. It must not have heard the gossip within the hustle and bustle of its photosynthetic boulevard.

I kneel to pick up my new friend. In this moment the forest around me seems to hush. Can it read my mind?

Fighting through tears and a forced smile, “Little one, you don’t want to follow me. My life is falling apart.” The leaf trembles, but it’s probably just my shaking hands.

I put the wee leaf down on the stump of a collapsed tree. A fallen soldier it can look over instead of me.

“Goodbye, little friend.”

The leaf seems to shudder slightly. Surely just the wind.

I turn around to face my path again. I’m not following any plan here, so it’s more just the direction I’m facing. Regardless, it’s where I’m heading apparently.

As I turn, the momentum my body creates makes the gold necklace around my neck nearly fly over my left shoulder. I catch the locket in my left hand.

Don’t look at it. Don’t think about it. Just keep moving.

Geir

The sun is glowing high above the tree covering, but it’s so thick in here it’s hard to tell what the exact weather is outside the wood. At least the air is still wonderfully crisp.

The light coming through creates an ethereal glow. There’s something other-worldly to it. It’s hard to explain really.

These woods pass by as I walk along, but even as I stop momentarily to take in a sight, it seems like the forest is still moving. Not the typical way all forests seem to either with leaves falling and animals scurrying about. I haven’t seen a single animal today actually, so this stirring must be a breeze going through the branches.

At my standstill, I realize I’m no longer on the trail. Where did it go?! How did it just disappear? Am I so lost in my thoughts that I failed to pay attention to where I was going?

I look around and realize I’m deeper into the forest than I’ve ever been. Nothing is familiar. Suddenly, I’m overcome with my nerves again. The chill of the air no longer masks the weight I’ve been feeling all along.

It feels worse now; panic is rising within me. Not only do I feel this crushing burden on my shoulders, but now I’m lost too!

I spin around trying to find the way I came from. It has to be directly behind me. Surely I can retrace my steps.

Not a chance.

When I turn around I’m greeted by the smattering of green and brown hues that make up the most entangled painting one could possibly imagine (and yet it’s still beautiful with only those two colors–amazing how nature can be so creative).

But there’s no time to admire the beauty of nature now because now that very nature is trying to consume me. I’ll be lost in these woods forever.

The thought is an overwhelming fog. The tension is now a circuit board of electrical currents sending sharp pain from which there’s no relief. This is the last thing I need today–I can’t handle more pressure.

“Help!” I try to yell, but it comes through as a desperate whisper. Of course, there’s no response, it’s merely a feeble attempt to process my situation.

“How can I be of service?” a deep voice filled with authority says from behind me.

I’m frozen. Terrified. There’s no way I just heard what I think I just heard. That’s impossible. I’m out here alone.

Slowly – incredibly slowly – I turn around.

There’s no one there. Just trees. “What?…” Glad no one heard that, I have no idea how that question would have possibly ended.

But then, without the slightest bit of warning, the tree closest to me shudders and the slits and cracks of its bark reveal what is undoubtedly a face.

“How can I be of service, miss?”

I’m frozen. Rooted just like the trees around me, and gaping at a tree with a face.

This tree seems perfect. Like any symmetrical tree you would see most kids draw when prompted to draw a tree. It’s perfect and strong. The bark healthy and impenetrable. It’s standing there, looking at me with a neutral, yet focused, stare. Almost like a war-torn soldier awaiting orders. Able and experienced.

“W-what?” I manage to stammer in disbelief.

“How can I be of service miss?” the tree says again. Its tone remains as steady as the first two times.

My heart is pounding. This can’t be real. I grab a stick next to me and hit my shin with a force to wake myself up.

CRACK!

“Ow!”

The pain is very real. Wish I hadn’t done that.

“Miss, please don’t hurt yourself like that. One shouldn’t inflict pain on themselves knowingly.”

I look up from rubbing my throbbing shin. “How are you talking to me? You’re a tree.”

“And you’re a human. I don’t understand the question.” it rumbles back to me kindly.

He–by the depth of his voice, he is clearly a male tree…I think–seems to be enjoying himself. One of the sides of his bark-laid smile goes up in a smirk as he speaks.

“But, trees can’t talk.”

“Miss, in the great expanse of creation there are mysteries humans have yet to discover that would knock you on your stump. When you think of all the beauty and all the wonders of this earth, is a talking tree really that hard to comprehend?”

Fair point.

“I…I guess not.”

“Glad we’re in agreement.” The tree smiles and stares at me for a moment.

“Miss, you asked for help and I have responded. My name is Geir. How can I be of service?”

Bewildered and still somewhat paralyzed in disbelief, I don’t see any other option than to continue the conversation. So I just go with it.

“Um…well,” I try to start confidently to compensate for my now trembling nerves (I don’t think I’m succeeding), “I come to this forest quite a lot, you see. It’s somewhat of an escape for me. But I’ve somehow wandered off my usual path and I’m a bit turned around now. I don’t want to go back because I’m afraid of going back. Things are so unclear… If I could just stay here and explore forever, maybe I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

I don’t know how to explain it, but Geir’s bark-ridden face looks…understanding. Sympathetic, even, for a tree. He’s really easy to talk to.

“Miss, I have seen many people come and go through these woods. Most are lost when they enter and found when they leave, and others leave the same way they arrived–broken and helpless. There isn’t anything we can do for those who don’t want to be helped. Getting through this forest is only the first step. There’s another adventure entirely waiting for you just outside this place my fellow trees and I call home.”

I listen intently to what Geir is saying. His voice is unlike anything I have ever heard, and yet there is something familiar to it. A welcoming tone that encourages me to keep listening. It’s comforting.

My attention is distracted only when I realize I’m clutching my locket as I listen. Old habit. Maybe I should just take it off once and for all.

“Miss, there is deep hurt in your heart. It’s easy to see.”

What did he say? How could he possibly–

“But,” Geir continues, “there’s something different about you than the other people I see come through this forest. You must be strong.”

“Easy for you to say,” I interject with a sting, “you don’t have to worry about pain.”

“Don’t I, miss?” Geir’s eyes suddenly shift from strong and compassionate, to distant and determined. He looks past me but at what I do not know, his gaze returns to me quickly. “Miss, in life you will be challenged. Challenges that test your resolve and faith are one of the constants you can expect. But be strong and you will be able to face the struggles that come your way.”

“How do I find strength when I feel so weak?” I ask without thinking.

“The answer to that question, miss, lies ahead. But this is where we part, for now.”

Geir looks at me for a moment, breathes deeply, and when he exhales his eyes close as if entering a restful sleep. I’m looking at the exact place I was just conversing with Geir but his face has disappeared. He is perfectly camouflaged.

“But Geir…I don’t know which way to go?” I say desperately.

The forest seems more peaceful now, but any direction looks just as good as the next. There is no path to follow. Even though Geir’s words were somewhat encouraging–nice words always seem to be momentary bandages–I’m still lost.

Suddenly the branch lowest to the ground on Geir’s tree creaks to form a hand right in front of me. He is pointing.

“Thanks Geir,” I say through a small smile, and start in the direction he is pointing.

I don’t feel any stronger yet, but maybe that will come in time.

Siv

The leaves continue to crunch under my feet, but I can hardly hear them over the sound of my own thoughts. Even though I’m walking deeper into the forest my mind is fixed on what I just experienced.

“I just talked to a tree…” I whisper out loud, “and now I’m heading in the direction it told me to go…and talking to myself.” My mind quickly goes on to what seems more important to think about.

How can I possibly be strong in times like this? My life feels like leaves falling helplessly from trees in autumn. One by one, consistently falling from what they knew to be their support.

With each step I take I try to stay focused on what Geir said. His words resonating deeply with me, despite my turmoil.

How do I stay strong through challenges like this? And what exactly was it that Geir was remembering when he spoke to me? It seemed painful, but he surely he’s never gone through anything bad–he seemed so strong and stable.

My thoughts are racing so I hardly notice the forest continuing to pass me.

Wandering by all these trees feels very similar to that distant feeling of walking by other people in a crowd. Deep down you know you should be acknowledging each other, but you don’t. The common thing that ties you together is your very existence, and yet we walk on by pretending like each other isn’t there because we’re so afraid of the vulnerability that comes with actually enduring together.

Or maybe that’s just me.

“Guaahh!” THUD.

“Ouch…” I rub my knees where the forest floor just came in violent contact with them.

“Graceful as always,” I mutter to myself sitting on the dirt. I’m not actually hurt and thankfully there’s no one around to be embarrassed for. Hope these dirt stains come out of my jeans. I love these jeans.

“Are you okay?” I hear from the space directly in front of me.

Suddenly I want to keep looking at the stains on my jeans, never wanting them to go away.

My first thought is “there’s no way I just heard that” but then again I did just have a conversation with a tree–surely I’m hallucinating that whole thing with Geir.

I slowly look up.

“I must be dreaming,” I feel myself say without thinking. Before me, again, is another talking tree.

“No, you’re not dreaming. This is very real.”

This tree isn’t like Geir though. The voice is soft, peaceful, and feminine. But unlike Geir’s nearly perfect form, this tree seems older. The bark is deep as if she has lived for hundreds of years. It stands out, pronounced, from her trunk. It’s fragile as if the sudden knock of a passerby would break it off.

“Are you hurt?” she says to me. Her voice isn’t cracked with age. It is majestic. And her eyes are full of such depth and peace.

Remembering I’m still sprawled on the forest floor, I shoot to my feet.

“No, I’m fine.” I struggle to stand strong right now as my right leg is throbbing. Can she see through me?

“My dear, you’re clearly hurt. You don’t have to hide your pain from me.”

Yep.

Her voice is soft, yet there is strength in how she speaks.

“My name is Siv. What’s yours?”

“Kaia.”

Siv pauses and gives me one of those looks like when you’ve just realized something. After an awkward moment, she smiles at me, “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks,” I say distractedly. It’s hard to carry conversation while also easing the pain in my shin, even if the chat is with a tree.

“Where are you heading?” Siv asks ignoring my scrape.

“I’m trying to find my way out of here.”

Siv pauses again and looks at me for a moment. How can her gaze possibly get this reaction out of me? It is both calming and at the same time piercing.

“Really?” Siv asks.

I muster a speck of confidence, ”…Yeah.”

“Kaia, you don’t have to hide from me.”

I try to sound annoyed so I can dissuade Siv from asking more questions. “I’m standing right in front of you, how could I be hiding?”

“I was once like you, Kaia.” Siv isn’t falling for my deception.

“I’ve been around a long time,” she continues “and I’ve made a lot of mistakes. So many mistakes that I often wondered if I’m good enough for what I really wanted in life.”

Suddenly my hand is holding my locket again.

“It was so easy to put up barriers and avoid the painful moments of life. But barriers have a reverse effect you don’t usually think about before they put them up. Sure they’ll keep you from getting hurt, for a time, but they also keep you from moving forward into your destiny. A barrier to keep people out also keeps you in.”

“Yeah but you have to protect yourself, don’t you?” I ask, hoping she will validate everything.

“What are you needing to protect yourself from, Kaia?” Her voice delicate.

I’ve completely forgotten about my tumble now–Siv has my full attention.

“Getting hurt,” I start timidly. “I have to protect myself. I don’t want to be judged. Having no barriers means I’m vulnerable to everyone.”

“Unfortunately, Kaia, we’re all going to get hurt in life. What makes us stronger is how we respond to those difficult times.”

“But without my barriers I feel so broken.”

“How have you felt lately with your walls up in all their might?”

Her question seems to echo throughout the forest. I pause and wait for what seems like an eternity. ”…Broken.”

“Dearest Kaia,” compassion fills her voice, “you must allow yourself to be tender.”

“But I don’t want to be weak.”

“I didn’t say ‘weak’ Kaia, I said ‘tender.’”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look at my bark. It’s different from what you see in the trees around you now, isn’t it?”

Siv’s right, the other trees around her are more like Geir’s bark. Shallower, denser. Siv’s bark is deep and bulky. Fortified almost, yet delicate.

“This tender exterior was given to me because I learned just how important tenderness is to longevity. I have lived in this forest for hundreds of years. I have seen trees, people, animals, and insects all come and go. Some with honor, others not quite. But what has allowed me to remain is the tenderness I learned along the way.

“As I said, Kaia, I wanted to prove that I was a good member of these woods early on, so I put up barriers. But in doing so I lied to myself about what I wanted, and who I really was, and so I lost something very precious to me.

“It wasn’t a good time for me. I struggled. I hated myself and thought I wouldn’t ever be good enough again for what I truly desired. But Amund–oh I can’t wait for you to meet him,” she added after noticing my confusion, but continued anyway, “he found me in that time and asked me to be completely open with him. He said if I would let him, he would guide me through this really difficult season of life. I learned tenderness in that season, Kaia, and it changed my life forever.”

“But what is it, Siv? What about it made you stop putting up barriers?”

She smiles at me for a moment, it reminds me of my mother.

“Forgiveness.”

I stare at Siv, this beautifully delicate and strong tree before me.

“You have such pain in your heart. Don’t you, Kaia?”

Everything seems to hush around us as my eyes well up. I continue to stare at her not knowing what to say. The gentle breeze creating a rustled soundtrack of leaves blowing through the air.

“Forgiveness is what allows you to move forward in life. It’s the release from the weight of your past, present, and future. Through forgiveness you can be tender to others, and yourself.

“Tenderness doesn’t mean you’re weak, nor does it mean you don’t stand up for what is right. It’s a freedom you can have as you walk through life. It allows you to never hold tight to the pain given by others, or the pain you cause. You still have to work through struggles, but it’s a release from the burden of it.”

Siv’s eyes glance to the locket around my neck and back to me. The corners of her mouth turn upward delicately as she continues.

“In being tender to others you experience deeper relationships with those who matter most to you. With being tender to yourself you experience a deeper understanding of who you are.”

“But…” I have so much on my heart that I want to ask but am afraid to, and I don’t know where to start either. “How can I deserve what I want in life when I feel so broken? What do I do with what I was hoping for?”

Once again, Siv pauses and looks at me, compassionately taking in the moment. Her eyes shift to my hands, which I just realized are clutching my locket, and she looks back up at me. She is at complete peace and smiling.

“That, dearest Kaia, is a question for Amund.”

The breeze of the forest continues around us. I don’t want to leave. Can’t we just talk forever? I feel so safe around her.

“Don’t be afraid to keep going, Kaia. You’re stronger than you know and are worthy of what’s in that beautiful locket. Just remember to allow yourself some tenderness as you go.”

And with that Siv smiles once more, taking in the moment with me, and closes her eyes. Just like Geir before her, there is no indication of where her eyes and mouth were.

Siv’s words resonate within me as I stand there, frozen in the aftermath of her gentle love, and a current of leaves wrestles around my feet.

I feel…better. Even though all the thoughts I entered this forest with are still there, it all feels a bit lighter now, ever so slightly. I’m still not sure how to be tender like Siv, or strong like Geir, but one thing’s for sure.

I know I need to keep walking.

Frode

The forest is going by slightly faster now. My pace has picked up to match the lift I’m feeling after talking with Siv.

Is it okay to feel positive about the future? Nothing technically is better. All the struggles are still there, but something in me has changed…a bit.

I don’t feel as lost right now–both physically and emotionally. This forest is actually quite nice, and it seems to go on forever too. Although, I can’t see anything that would help me understand where I am or how I could possibly get out.

But I’ll continue on the direction Geir said to go. Just stay positive. “Be strong Kaia…”

Ahead, a squirrel is sitting on a log eating an acorn. To my surprise, it doesn’t dart away like most squirrels do when approached by humans.

Instead, he merely observes me over his nutty treat as I get closer. After the last two tree friends I’m practically expecting this squirrel to start gabbing away.

I stop as I close the gap between us. He doesn’t have the wild look to him most squirrels and forest creatures have. His fur is glossy, and his markings distinct. A lovely blend of white, tan, and brown fur. The squirrel lowers his acorn and reveals what looks like a bow tie outlined in the fur under his chin.

“What’s your story, little guy?”

The brown squirrel just looks up at me, still holding its prized acorn in front of him with his short arms.

“Oh don’t mind him. He’s a bit nuts.” says a deep, old voice from behind me laughing hysterically.

I whip around to find an old tree laughing at himself.

“Get it? ‘Nuts’?” he keeps chuckling at his joke.

This tree sounds old. His voice resonates deep within his trunk; earthy tones infusing his speech, giving him the sound of a wised old grandfather.

Given this is the third talking tree I’m encountering today, I’m no longer scared by the idea of it–but the way this tree looks does startle me.

The base of his trunk is as massive as his age, and his bark bulky. There isn’t anything uniform and strong like Geir, or delicate and deep like Siv. He is war-torn. Bruised and battered. Roots showing before they burrow into the dirt. I’ve seen things like this on a tree before, but what startles me is a few feet above the earth.

He is split in half.

I’ve never seen this before. What was once one giant is now two smaller trees growing in opposite directions of each other. Still part of the same trunk–all the same tree–but cleaved in two. At the point in which the split occurs, there is a huge gash in his bark. As if a scar has healed over a grave wound. Whatever happened, it was so severe there will always be a permanent chunk missing.

This tree had seen better days.

And yet here he was before me, still chuckling at himself pleased with his joke. His eyes and mouth both turned upward in happiness.

“H-hello there.” I stammer out, bemused by the sight before me.

“Hello little one!” he says joyfully. “Did you like my joke?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Ha, oh you don’t have to lie. It wasn’t that funny. But I couldn’t resist. That squirrel has been pestering me for weeks.” He chuckles again, the laughter causing a few acorns to fall off his branches.

He takes a deep breath and gains his composure. As he relaxes the age around his wounds become more pronounced, but he looks at me with the utmost sense of peace and contentment.

“So,” the old tree says, “it’s nice to meet you, Kaia.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Our whispers are carried on the breeze. Geir told me you were coming.”

“Oh…”, I say completely bewildered. Is that what the subtle movement in the forest is? And what did Geir say about me?

He chuckles slightly, “oh don’t worry Kaia. Geir didn’t say anything bad. He just wanted me to make sure I talked to you.”

“Okay…”

Why would Geir want this old tree to talk to me? I’m just a nobody trying to get out of this forest.

“You’re important Kaia. This is a big day for you.”

“Huh?”

He smiles at me. I surely look quite the fool right now, and I certainly feel like it.

“My name is Frode.”

“N-Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, young one.”

I don’t know what to say. I want to know what happened to cause his scar, but it feels inappropriate to ask. Surely trees have similar rules of propriety as humans do.

The breeze sweeps by and trees around us lean with it, leaves passing by happily dancing along the forest floor. The squirrel from before is chasing a large brown leaf, apparently done with his acorn. But Frode continues to look at me smiling, completely content.

“Go ahead child, ask away,” Frode says happily.

Am I completely transparent in my thoughts? My usual tactics for hiding my feelings don’t seem to be working at all in these woods.

“What happened to you, Frode? The other two trees I met earlier, Geir and Siv, they don’t…” I hesitate because I don’t want to be rude.

“They don’t look like me?” Frode offers peacefully.

“Yeah…”

“No, I don’t suspect they would,” Frode starts. His joyful spirit still in his voice, but his age showing a bit now as he pulls memories from a past long gone. “But you know what?” adding with a chortle, “I’m actually younger than Siv! Don’t tell her I told you that though.”

I can’t help but return it and laugh too. It’s like sitting down to tea with my grandparents and listening to stories from their long life. I wonder if Frode has a family, too.

“I won’t tell her,” I say through a smile, “but what happened, Frode? You seem so kind and happy, and yet,” I motion a few feet above his eyes, “you clearly have something traumatic in your past.”

Frode pauses just a slight moment and compassion fills his face.

“Young Kaia, you are wiser than you know. Yes, I have trauma in my past. It isn’t a fun story if I’m being honest. Perhaps I will share it with you one day, but, as you can see,” he shrugs his branches a bit, “the results of the story left me the way you see me now. But I wonder Kaia, do you think it’s affecting me today?”

“It doesn’t seem like it. No.”

Frode chuckles softly, “That was a bit of a trick question. The answer is both ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ What you see before you now is my past manifested. Physically, that is. These scars, each holding memories. Not pleasant ones either, I’m afraid.”

His words pierce me, as I shift awkwardly where I’m standing.

“I learned long ago that I had a choice. These scars could define me and affect my life. They could haunt my every moment, making me doubt who I am and what value I have to offer. Their weight could hold me down and hold me back from living the life I want: a life of worth and fulfillment–a life of love. Or, you can lose those shackles and choose something else.”

Stillness swelled between us, even the squirrel had stopped wrestling with a new acorn.

“You see, Kaia, the past may explain you, but it doesn’t define you.”

I’m suddenly aware of the fact that a tear is rolling down my right cheek. I hastily wipe it away and as my hand leaves my face it doesn’t travel far before it’s once again gripping my locket.

“But don’t you worry? About the effect your scars have had on you?” Even I can hear how shaky I sound. “Don’t they make you feel…broken? Like you don’t deserve what you dream about?”

“They did for many years, Kaia. Too many years.” A wisp of disappointment filled his voice. “I was prisoner in a cage of my own creation. But once I decided to not let my past define me anymore I was able to see the experiences for what they were.”

“Which was?”

“Opportunities,” Frode smiled. “Certainly not in the moment when everything happened, but eventually I was able to see the gift of growth that was on the other side of pain. The gift to become better. To be better. And you know what? Once I started focusing on that, on what I had the opportunity to do with it, I started to realize how happy I was becoming.

“The scars from my past are opportunities to live a more fulfilling life, truer to who I’m meant to be.”

Frode concludes with a smile. And just then the squirrel from earlier runs up Frode’s left side about five feet, stops in typical squirrel-stopping-speed, looks directly at me, and runs down the inside of Frode’s trunk into the shallow hole where Frode splits into two trees.

The shallow hole, the scar from Frode’s past, is now the squirrel’s home.

Frode’s eyes look up and he smiles warmly as the squirrel nestles down, tucking his bow tie into his arms, content with a full belly.

I don’t know how to feel or what to say, but I’m sure I look a little silly to Frode right now. I just stand there clutching my locket, trying to process everything.

“H-how?…” I manage to utter. “How did you do it then? How did you get past it all?”

“You don’t have to have all the answers, Kaia. In fact, you often won’t.”

“That doesn’t really help…” my shoulders falling. “I just want to run away. This is all too much. I don’t want to hurt anymore, but I’m also afraid of dealing with it. And even if I do, won’t I be weaker or more broken then? How can I have what I want most after all that?” I clutch my locket and look at the forest floor as tears roll down my cheeks again.

“Ah but you see Kaia, you don’t know about my secret: I did not do it alone.”

He pauses as if expecting me to react, but I can only muster a meek half-smile.

Graciously, he continues. “The answers came to me through the form of a friend I wasn’t expecting, someone who became my guide. He helped me realize who I am and how to get through my struggles. He showed that perseverance was the answer, to keep going and keep pressing it. Once I realized that I couldn’t figure it out on my own, and learned to trust him, I started to heal and take steps toward my true self. Figuratively speaking, of course.” Frode smiles broadly and shrugs his roots ever so slightly, accentuating the fact that he, of course, can’t take steps.

I can’t help but smile. Frode’s gentle spirit brings me a small dose of peace as he chuckles and tries to make me laugh.

“Everything will be alright, Kaia. You will be just fine.”

“Thanks,” I say softly. But I don’t feel any stronger really, nor do I know how to do what he’s suggesting, to persevere through this, but his words of encouragement are nice.

“Now it’s time for you to keep moving forward though. This is where we part.”

“Oh.” I’m disappointed by this, I like talking with Frode, but I guess it makes sense. I can’t stay here forever. “Where do I go from here?”

“You’re close now. Just keep heading in this direction.” Frode motions to his left with another gentle shrug of his roots. “Amund is waiting for you.”

“Okay,” I say looking in the direction he shrugged. “Wait, who?”

But Frode just smiles at me and closes his eyes. Like Geir and Siv before him, he is at total rest as a tree again. The squirrel, on the other hand, is sitting up and staring at me.

“Okay then…guess I’ll keep going.” Thankfully the direction Frode said to go doesn’t seem too ominous. The forest is peaceful, the sun still creating beams of yellow and green through the canopy.

Folke

There is purpose in my steps. My brisk steps taking me through the forest as the conversations with Geir, Siv, and Frode all resonate in my mind. Their words penetrate my very soul.

It’s an odd sensation. Nothing is fixed. I still hurt just as much as I did when I entered the forest. But after these conversations I feel…understood. That’s something to be hopeful about, right?

But I’m still not very confident in my ability to use their advice. They were kind, encouraging words, but they might as well have handed me an abacus; no idea what to do with the tool in my hands.

At least the forest is serene. My locket sways back and forth as I walk through this beautiful place. The ethereal element still lingers in the air. After my last three encounters, I wouldn’t be surprised if a Wood Elf popped out from the brush and greeted me.

My mind races through the conversations I had with the three trees. It’s still difficult to understand how to utilize what they told me. It all sounds good, but they don’t know what I’m going through. Not really. They don’t have to deal with my stuff.

Geir said to be strong – but I still feel weak.

Siv said to be tender – but my walls are still up.

Frode said to persevere – but running away feels easier.

Suddenly I’m feeling overwhelmed again, but I clench my fists and try with all my might to forget it. Let’s just keep heading in this direction. Hopefully it’s the path out of here after all.

“Hey! Where you going?”

This joyful voice just called out to me from my right, but it was a good distance away. Maybe 40 meters or so, but with the thick trees blocking sight and sound it feels further. Against my better judgment, I stop to see if it calls out again.

“Yeah you, with the long hair and scarf.”

Guess I have no choice now.

“Yes?” I call out. Perplexed, and with a subtle - and appropriate, I think - amount of hesitation.

The trees between me and the voice begin to bustle about, then the bushes, then the thickets. The voice is coming toward me.

“Hold on, I’ll be right there!”

Her voice is kind and young. I’m not really nervous as I watch the movement toward me, but it’s weird that I still can’t see her.

The bush directly ahead of me moves, she is about to appear. She must be short too because that bush is only four feet tall. Maybe it’s a hobbit?

“Hello!” Out from the bush comes what is unquestionably a wolf.

I jump back frightened, not expecting a talking wolf to appear.

“Oh sorry, did I frighten you? I didn’t mean to do that. So sorry, that tends to happen sometimes.”

Her voice is happy, but she is also a bit timid. Maybe she genuinely doesn’t want to scare me? Or is there something else scaring her?

The she-wolf is slender, with a gorgeous silver coat. Against the backdrop of the forest, she stands out beautifully. A diamond in the rough. Her blue eyes jewels sparkling in this magical place. She’s perfect.

Then she smiles at me. Everyone is so kind in this forest.

Collecting myself, “No, you didn’t scare me. I guess I just didn’t expect to meet a talking wolf.”

“That’s understandable. Not every day you meet a talking wolf, I suppose.”

“Not any day.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks, looking around at the forest.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Looking for someone? Seems like you just found someone!” she says joyfully.

Patiently I explain further, “I’ve been told there’s someone called Amund I’m supposed to find.”

“Amund?! Oh, that’s great! You’re going to love him. He’s wonderful.”

“Okay?” This wolf is feeling far more energetic than I am at the moment. “Well, I’m a bit nervous honestly. I just want to get out of here. I’m lost and following the only path I know to follow. I’m just hoping it’s the right one.”

The wolf smiles at me, her eyes glittering. “You’re definitely on the right path. Come on, follow me. I’ll take you to him!”

With that, she leaps in the air and turns her body toward the direction she came from, and bolts off.

“Hold on!” I yell attempting to keep up. She’s darting effortlessly through the bush and thicket in a way no human can. Eventually, our path becomes less thick and I’m able to attempt catching up, running after her. My locket bounces back and forth rapidly as I kick up leaves. This wolf is fast.

But the wolf realizes her excitement is outrunning my two legs and waits for me at the top of a small hill.

A moment later, I’m by her side with my hands on my knees taking deep breaths. “Thanks for waiting,” I dig.

“Oh no problem,” the wolf clearly doesn’t notice my sarcasm, “I’m happy to wait. You seem fun. My name is Folke, by the way. What’s yours?”

Regaining my posture, “Kaia.”

Folke pauses, she looks as if she just realized something important, and then smiles, “That’s a gorgeous name.”

“Thanks. You seem very…happy. Why are you so happy?”

“Oh thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” Folke takes a moment to look around as she considers her next words. “I guess it’s just easy to be happy when you know what I know.”

“And what is it that you know?”, I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Folke smiles, “You’re about to find out. Come on!”

And with that, she darts off in the same direction we had just been going. Down the small hill and through the trees. I run after her, kicking up dirt as I barely keep up.

The bushes and trees whizz past me quickly, and I grab my scarf just before it unravels off my shoulders. It’s kind of fun to just run through the forest like this. Haven’t felt this carefree in a good while. A smile grows on my face as I continue to follow Folke.

Suddenly she stops, and fortunately I’m able to react quick enough without running into her.

“We’re here!”

I look around and take in our destination.

We are no longer in the forest. Well, we are, but we aren’t. The end of the path Folke led me on had now opened up to reveal the most beautiful field I have ever seen.

Trees surround a field of yellow and blue flowers that come up to my knees. In the middle of the meadow is a massive willow tree reaching toward heaven, and falling gracefully to earth. It looks as if it is connecting earth with the sky.

There are no insects, nor animals other than Folke. Nothing but a subtle breeze through the field, creating a golden current.

“Come on,” Folke says, “he’s just up ahead.”

And with that, we walk toward the willow tree.

Amund

This cyclone of feelings is new; excitement, terror, sadness, and joy all at once. With each step Folke and I take toward the willow tree, these emotions grow stronger.

The pain and struggle that led me into this forest mere hours before have returned in full force, joining the anxiety in the pit of my stomach. For a brief moment, I had forgotten about all of it while I was running with Folke. But now the heavy stone is lodged deep again.

The words of Geir, Siv, and Frode swirl in my head. This figure ahead of me is the “Amund” they all referenced, and he’s supposed to be able to help me.

Yellow and blue flowers continue to pass me as we get closer with each step. Folke looks up at me and smiles. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure,” I whisper. “I’m suddenly scared.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” she says gently. The way Folke speaks brings me some comfort, but as we approach I feel a new tension tripping my steps as if my body is trying to be convinced to run away.

I push through it. We are now close enough to the willow tree for me to see that this figure isn’t another talking tree–it’s a man–but the presence around the tree takes my breath away before I can notice anything else.

The air is saturated with a mist creating beams of colors with the sunlight so thick I could grab hold of them. The breeze through the arms of the willow tree pushes currents of color all around us peacefully. It isn’t distracting at all, it’s as if this is the most natural thing there could ever be.

We’re ten feet away and the flowers are now purple, and Folke is still by my side.

We stop in front of this figure with his back to us.

His hair is a brilliant brunette, short but unkempt. He wears a tunic and leather belt. His tan slacks remind me of beach pants, but there is nothing modern about him at all.

The air goes still and the mist seems to linger. For what seems like an hour we just stand there taking in the senses of this magical place. I feel my shoulders relax and a feeling of peace start to fill my heart, and I almost forget why I’m here.

“Hello Amund,” Folke says joyfully.

Amund turns around nonchalantly.

Before me stands what undoubtedly is a man; a plain, normal-looking man. His face is gentle and young, but not so young that I don’t notice smile lines at the corner of his eyes. His clothes are just as plain from the front as they are the back. Yet despite his normal appearance, his presence is commanding as if the very nature around him bends to his will.

His eyes…pierce me to my core. They are the kindest eyes I have ever looked into. His gaze makes me forget everything else in the world momentarily.

I forget where I am. I forget the last few hours. I forget what led me here. I forget the pain and hurt deep inside me.

It’s just me and him. Time has slowed down, and for the briefest of moments, I experience what I can only describe as complete and utter peace. It’s unlike anything I have ever experienced.

His smile opens slightly and he starts to speak.

“Hello, Folke. My, you are beautiful today.” He speaks as if he’s her loving father simply delighting in her.

“Thanks, Amund!” Folke beams. “Amund, this is–”

“Kaia.” Amund finishes, looking directly at me. “Thank you, Folke, for leading Kaia here.”

With that Amund gives Folke a smile. Folke smiles back, understanding Amund completely then looks at me, her blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. She is the embodiment of joy; there’s no other way to describe it. “Kaia, I’m truly glad to have met you. You are amazing.”

And before I can respond, Folke jumps in the air twisting her body in a flip to point in the direction of the forest, and darts off. A gleaming silver streak amidst the colors of the field.

I turn back to face Amund, completely unsure of what to say. Fortunately, he speaks first.

“Folke is wonderful, isn’t she?”

“Y-yeah. She’s a lot of fun.” His gentle spirit commands the space around us, and yet it’s altogether normal that he is carrying on a casual conversation with me even though we’ve never spoken before. I don’t understand how he can seem so familiar.

“Folke represents what I hope for all people. She’s full of joy and love towards everyone she meets. She and I are great friends.”

He pauses. His hands are resting on his leather belt in front of him, completely at peace as the mist wisps around him and the willow tree blusters the colors about.

“W-who are you?” I can’t think of anything else to say, which is silly since I know his name, but that is still the only thing my racing mind can think to ask. What makes this man so special? Why does he feel so familiar? Why do I feel this peace around him? Why did the three trees want me to talk to him?

Beams of color wave across his face, “I’ve learned that I have many names, but here they call me Amund. Regardless of what people call me, here I am.” His eyes turn upward with a smile.

“Okay, well hi Amund.” I feebly wave as my impatience gets the better of me. “I have so many questions. I met these trees along the way here and they all told me you would be able to answer my questions. Can you? Can you help me?”

“Of course. That’s why you’re here, Kaia.”

“I don’t understand.”

“These flowers all around you and I–what do you see?” Amund speaks with a kind authority I would never question.

I look around, perplexed by the question. “I see normal yellow, blue, and purple flowers.”

“What makes them normal?”

“I’m not sure…because they’re all alike.”

“Are they?”

“Seems that way.”

Amund smiles. The breeze picks up and a wave rolls through the mist. The sun still beaming amongst the willow tree.

“They were each designed intentionally. At least, I tried my best,” he chuckled through a smile.

I follow his gaze as he turns reflectively. He just implied he designed them? How is that possible?

“You’re right,” he says simply. “They’re flowers, and so they’re all just as delicate as you would expect them to be. Everything has to start that way, it’s the only way to experience life. Without that vulnerability, you would never know strength. And yet,” his arms outstretched motioning to the vast field around us, “even though they have that vulnerability, they are strong because they stand together here with me. During the struggles, they know that I am here with them, always. So they know they will make it through their storms.

“And my good friends who you met along the way – Geir the protector, Siv the bride, Frode the wise, and Folke the gift – they all were on their journeys at one time, too. Each of them was struggling; the storms of life blowing them from valley to valley, unsure of what to do or who they were. One by one, each of them allowed me to help. They have learned how to be strong, tender, and persevere because we got through it together.”

A flurry of petals dances into the air around us.

None of this makes sense to me. How could he help so many? And the trees seemed so old while he looks so young.

But my thoughts are quickly overshadowed by the gravity of all the feelings I walked into the forest with a few hours ago–they resurfaced. It’s overwhelming. My heartbeat rises. My breath quickens. The panic is palpable.

Thump-thump…. thump-thump…

The three trees said this is the man who can help me with all this. Why hasn’t he yet?

Thump-thump…. thump-thump…

I’m suddenly aware of how I look. I can’t seem to control my buckling knees. I’m grasping my locket tightly in my right hand, and with my left, I’m trying to support my upper body on my thigh. The intensity of this pressure is crushing.

Thump-thump…. thump-thump…

“Kaia.”

In one mention of my name he cuts through my panic and stabilizes me. My back raises slightly as if he just put his hand on my shoulder, but he’s still standing over by the willow tree.

“Why do you struggle so?” Amund asks gently.

“I…I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

The barriers I work so hard to reinforce finally give way and crumble.

“I just want the pain to go away, but I’m afraid of dealing with it because it means I have to face the pain all over again. And yet I’m unhappy because I don’t deal with it. I stay busy and focus on things I convince myself I need to do. Distractions, people, anything just to fill a void.”

My eyes are burning with tears as every suppressed thought and emotion bubbles up, begging to be poured out.

“I know I’m not whole, and yet I want to be. I have things in my life that are really precious to me,” I clutch my locket even stronger as my voice breaks, “hopes and dreams I want to see come true. But…I don’t think I’m good enough.” Streaks of tears run down my cheeks. “There are scars in my heart that I cover up however I can, but they’re just fake walls. I’m not actually strong. I just want to curl up and hide from the world. It’s crushing… I’m not worthy of my hopes and dreams. I’m not beautiful or have what others have. I’m not…I’m not worthy of being loved.”

I can’t take it anymore. I collapse onto the grass before Amund, the willow tree, and the audience of flowers around us. The subtle breeze still waves the mist about. I’m sure the colors are going in and out all around me, but I don’t care. At least the grass is soft as I sob quietly into my hands. I feel the locket still in my hand, now against my cheek, and I cry harder.

“Why Amund?… Why do I feel this way? How do I make it better?”

I hear footsteps approach. Amund kneels beside me and puts his hand on my shoulder. A powerful peace surges through my body as if someone just poured hot water on my head, instantly covering me. I manage to look a tear-stained gaze up into his eyes.

I have never experienced a look so compassionate and caring as I do at that moment with Amund.

“Kaia, it’s okay. What you’re feeling now, it’s okay to be feeling that. It’s a lot and you’ve not known anything else. I understand.”

There isn’t the slightest flicker of judgment in his voice.

“Each of us have our battles to face. Do you know what Geir, Siv, Frode, and even Folke all needed to get through theirs?” Amund asks.

“No…”, I manage, wiping my cheeks dry.

“A friend.”

I stare at him somewhat bemused by his simple response.

Amund smiles. “You see Kaia, I’ve known them for a very long time, but it took them a while to find me. Even though I longed for their loving friendship the whole time, something was keeping them from me. It was different for each of them. Pride, fear, self-doubt. One way or another they decided they weren’t good enough for me. Which of course wasn’t true.” He pauses and before he continues I watch his eyes gaze far off as if looking for something beyond the forest. “I’ve dreamed of them since before they were born, and have longed for them to know me as a trusted friend. One by one they did, and now we make it through any situation together.”

“I don’t understand. How can you be a friend to everyone?” I ask.

“The same reason I know all these flowers, or how I know the reasons you entered this forest clutching that locket so dearly.”

I stare into his eyes, patiently waiting for what’s next. The pillowy grass under both of us as two friends talk under an ancient willow tree.

“I am the Master Sculptor, Kaia. The Maker. The Craftsman.” He breathes deeply and turns to me with genial cheeks. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I did. I was trying to put it all together. That was the only logical conclusion I could come up with, but it seemed so…I don’t know…big that I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Why?”

“Guess I was afraid you wouldn’t want me.”

“My dear Kaia…” Amund’s eyes suddenly go from kind compassion to something that verges on sadness, “I love you, Kaia. I’ve delighted in you with each step of your journey. To me, you are altogether lovely. I have longed for this day where we would be friends, here under the willow tree.”

It’s difficult to describe the impact of these words in this moment. They land with both profound weight and lift me to an immense height at the same time. It’s a tremendous, awesome joy unrooted at my heart.

I don’t say anything for many moments. We just sit together, there under the tree. Amund is cross-legged, his hands behind his back staring up beyond the leaves.

Eventually, I manage to break the silence. “So what do I do now?” I ask quietly.

He answers while keeping his gaze above. “Well, you will walk out of this forest,” his voice is calm and kind, “and you face the life you were running from when you entered my forest. You do not need to fear your past, nor the pressures of the world. You will not be torn apart. You are strong and courageous. Hold tight your strength, and remember to be tender, especially to yourself. Persevere.

Amund leans forward and his gentle crystal eyes pierce mine. “But this time, I will be going with you. Just talk to me, and share with me what you’re feeling. If you let me, I will guide you.”

“You’ll hear me?”

Amund chuckles joyfully, “of course I will! And remember Kaia, no matter what happens, I delight in you, always.”

With that, Amund stands up and holds his hand down toward me. I grab it, making contact with him for the first time, and feel a tidal wave of peace overtake my every fiber.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I…I think so.”

I have never felt this way. This unshakeable, insurmountable person will never leave me or forsake me; he loves me and delights in me.

He believes in me.

Amund points to the side of the field and a path instantly cuts through the thick woods. It is the way out of the forest.

I turn to Amund and smile. He puts his hand on my shoulder and the sun’s rays weave around us once more under the willow tree. We don’t say anything but that’s okay, he’s given me enough.

With a little nod, I turn and start toward the path he created for me. With each step, I feel it all sinking in–this revelation would change the course of my life.

I’m halfway to the edge of the meadow where the trees start again. “Oh Kaia,” Amund calls out from back under the willow tree, “Your locket. What’s inside…that is a gift I designed for you. Don’t let go of it. Keep it close.”

I open the old locket that has been around my neck this entire time to look at what lay inside, safely framed and kept close to my heart. The familiar swell of tears joins the moment, but this time they are paired with a smile. I look up to Amund, who is beaming, and smile back the first full true smile I’ve given in a very long time.

My feet start up again toward the opening in the trees ahead. I still have the struggles I entered the forest with, but I now have something more powerful than fear. It just took some encouraging words from three new friends, and faith in something bigger than anything life will ever throw at me.

The future doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

Will Lenzen — Writer and Designer

Recent work

Writing and directing