e are sitting quietly. Each of us
spread across the forest floor in our own private spot. I try to be as still as possible so that more becomes apparent to my senses. At first when I sit down I notice that my thoughts are all over the place and my body wants to move. It is as if each of these thoughts and movements want me to do as they wish. What are my friends doing? I am uncomfortable. I want to drum with the two sticks I found. When is lunch? Did I just hear my friend? After a while I see these thoughts leave and get replaced by the forest above me. I see the forest canopy above me as I lay back. I see the shedding leaves coaxed off of the trees by a wind that seems to be only blowing at the tops of the forest. I have the thought that there are different weather patterns in small and
confined spaces. On a sunny day there can be caves of darkness. I wonder about worlds
within worlds. I hear the movement of the top branches shaking the hands of other top
branches. I try to follow a leaf’s decent from high above to the forest floor. I play a game where I pick a leaf to see how close it gets to my spot. I watch one land a few feet away on a fallen tree. I sit up. I wonder what brought this tree down. Was it a storm? Did it die and fall? The tree has been here long enough to be in sections. One section is sort of hollowed out and about three feet from where I sit. I can see the cracks, crevices, and hollows. The idea of a world within a world pops back into my mind and I wonder how many organisms live in this log. It’s like an insect hotel. I think of breaking it open later but realize that I might be destroying a universe. I wonder how many times I have thoughtlessly destroyed universes, even on the walk here. I look closer at the exact spot I am. My focus goes to the small world. I can see a path under the leaves that two tiny spiders march. I imagine myself that small and wonder what it would look like under the brush and growth. I have the thought that a fern might feel exotic and tropical. I think of the rotting log and how scary it would be to come across that if I were shrunken to the size of a tiny spider. I pick up a leaf and see the holes chewed out by some insect, the veins still spreading to the edges, and a little growth attached near the spine. The breeze above stops and there is a new silence. I let go of my leaf and close my eyes and listen to the stillness and quiet which are neither still nor quiet. With my eyes closed I hear the silence of the stream moving over rocks. I know that this doesn’t make sense but I have this thought that silence isn’t the absence of sound but the sound of a thing without my distractions and noise. I try and listen for other silences.
I realize the wind is silent in the same way. And I wonder if maybe I can have this silence too. I am not sure how long I have been here in this spot. I remember being cold at first but now I have a warmth in my body even though my skin is cold to the touch. I suddenly remember sled riding the first time by myself when I was a little kid
and how I had this same warm cold experience. This makes me smile. I have a feeling of being thankful. I cannot explain this feeling, but when I breathe in the clean, cold air I feel like McKeever is not a place or a field trip. It’s a place always inside me that I continuously forget about, and that this air I am breathing in now is travelling to those clogged up places inside of me so it can throw a bucket of cold water on these spaces to wake me up. I take several deep breaths to quench this thirst. I hear the meditation bell signaling it’s time. The sound waves roll over this stillness and I can’t decide if that is a good or bad thing.
Greg Wittig
Miidle School Team Leader
Greg Wittig, M.Ed - Falk Middle School Team Leader
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