Zola Jesus on the freedom of being in the woods

In the city I am tense; constantly absorbing the energy of the masses. It’s impossible even in the most insulated apartment, in the most tucked away corner of a quiet neighborhood, to ignore the low incessant hum of activity all around me. It makes me feel overwhelmed; like I am somehow single-handedly responsible for every person within a 10-mile radius. I feel as if I need to be right around the corner with arms spread out, ready to harness every stranger in all of their daily struggles and heartbreak. It’s a burdening sort of feeling, I don’t even quite understand how any long-term city dweller can stomach it. Does everyone feel this way? Energy is in a constant state of transfer. In a city you are part of a giant sponge of people, collecting and sending energy at an exponential rate.

But when I am in the woods, I feel every tendon, bone, and vessel in my body exhale. I am given permission to relax. There is action in the woods, of course, but not the kind of city-action that prods unrelenting reminders of my humanity. When I am in a sea of endless trees, I feel released of my duty to be a person. I am free.

The woods, though quiet and still, are full of stimulation. Plants emerge and fade away in a matter of days. One day after a rain I’ll find a mushroom. The next day it will be gone. I can spends hours scouring a forest floor, taking inventory of the changing flora, or staring up at the tops of birch trees, hunting for chaga. I can walk for extreme lengths of time, thinking I’ve been totally alone, when all of a sudden I will look behind me and spot a deer, who has been stealthily keeping tabs on me. Or I’ll stumble across a wild turkey, and we’ll both scream in terror, running away in opposite directions. In the forest we are all introverts. We are all better off left alone, and try our best to avoid each other at all costs. In the city, it is harder to feel so free to do this. I would have nowhere to turn without being caught in a web of bodies in every direction.

It’s true that the woods are not without their danger. There are some bears on my land. I have great respect for them, because I know they could so easily shred my pitiful human body with one swipe of their claw. But I would rather die by accidentally crossing a protective mother bear than be be violently raped and left for dead by another person in a dark city alley. I understand a bear’s will to kill me. I don’t understand a man’s.

The laws of nature work best in nature. When we are taken out of nature, we slowly lose ourselves and our sense of mutual aid. Our empathy and compassion erodes. We become less than animal. In the woods I feel safe, complete, and perfect. In the woods I feel like the world makes sense, and my place on Earth is well-adjusted. I am the human, she is the deer, he is the turkey. We are, collectively, the fauna of the forest. In the city, there is nothing to balance out the humans. Not even the rats or pigeons can compete with the catastrophic swarm of human activity. When the kingdom is overrun, it becomes impossible to maintain one’s humanity. In the city, when there are so many of us pushed together, I feel lost and confused of my purpose. In the woods I have control of my natural role within it, and the ease of simply being makes everything feel correct. So much so, that I can finally breathe.