Mumford said, ‘A forest is deep terrain.’
She read from a book called Enchantment.
The forest … is a deep terrain, a place of unending variance and subtle meaning. It is in itself a complete sensory environment, whispering with sounds that nourish rather than enervate, with scents that carry information more significant than ‘nasty’ or ‘nice’. It is different each time you meet it, changing with the seasons, the weather, the life cycles of its inhabitants.
It is marked by history and mythologies; stories effortlessly spin from its depths.
Dig beneath its soil, and you will uncover layers of life: the frail networks of mycelia, the burrows of animals, the roots of trees.
Bring questions into this space and you will receive a reply, though not an answer.
‘Lovely,’ said Mieke.
‘There’s more.’
Deep terrain offers up multiplicity, forked paths, symbolic meaning. It schools you in compromise, in shifting interpretation. It will mute you rationally and make you believe in magic.
A deep terrain is a life’s work. It will beguile, nourish and sustain you through decades, only to prove that you, too are ephemeral compared to the rocks and the trees.
REFERENCE: May, Katherine (2023), Enchantment: Reawakening Wonder in an Exhausted Age. London: Faber and Faber.
IMAGES: “Old and mossy myrtle-beech trees, Overland Track, Tasmania” by Tatters on Flickr
“Gordon River forest 2” by Sally Cummings on Flickr
“Julius River Forest Reserve, Tasmania 08” by Dhx1 via Wikimedia
“Temperate Rainforest, Lake St Clair Cradle Mountain National Park, Tasmania” by StJimmyNails via Wikimedia
The Absent Answer 
