Katy HamptonWriting from the WildSpecial Project Draft 3

Author’s note-

I’ve been playing around with the formatting of this, so how does this new organization help or take away from the piece?

Does the order of the pages/places make sense?

Does anything leave you confused or with questions?

I chose to not make this a guidebook at this juncture, do you think turning this into one would strengthen it?

I know that my attitude shifts a lot in this piece because I have a lot of conflicting ideas/emotions. Does it work or should I soften the edges of these more?

1

I have yet to find the perfect tree in the Evergreen forest. I had thought there would be an excess of tree options in such a large forest. But when you really get down to it, there aren’t any of the perfect trees. The perfect trees grow just for you to climb them. The branches grow thick to support you at least twenty feet in the air. Those are the trees that show you another world and welcome you into it. Having not found one since I’ve lived here, I am left a bit disappointed. Instead of focusing on the lack of those magical trees, and the one I left behind, I

have decided to find those ethereal spots in the woods and write from those places.

It is difficult to find seclusion in the woods when there is good weather. If you steer clear of the main paths and the beach, it isn’t terrible. I walk the opposite direction of any and all human noise. This involves off

roading, so wear clothes and shoes you don’t care for. Shorts are a mistake. Extraneous objects are a hindrance, but if you need your guitar, put it in a case. Solitude isn’t necessary, but people can ruin these spots

by making them into something they are not. Always appreciate the finer details of your surroundings.

2

I’d give you my heartBut I can live without the beat

I try to show you the forestBut you won’t see it for the trees

So, I offer the oceanBut it will only reach the shore

I’d bathe you in starlightNebulous deaths of millennia before

This is a writing tree. As if it had already been crushed down to the

notebook I use, this tree wants me to engrave this experience. As I go a-walking through the woods, bits and phrases try to push

to the surface of my thoughts. I cannot let them form. Crowded paths meandering

toward the beach are not the places for words like these. These ideas need darkness to temper the light.

Sitting thoughts.

3

I cannot abide by the beach. Beaches are all fun, fun, fun until Daddy takes the T-Bird away.

Seasides are inherently happy. Incessant joy leaves me fuming, just to be contrary. Give me lightning and black clouds; keep the salty sunshine for yourself.

But,this is not your typical beach.

Trees casually extend an arm toward the sea.Roots sew themselves into the fabric of the sandy blanket.

Sitting on this tree,a fish out of water,

I feel a grudging acceptance of this place.Standing only to plop down to the rocky earth.

More familiar than the first steps in a childhood home.I lay across the jagged surface to see each stony specimen better.

The corner of a childhood dream that wasn’t extinguished with the flame of your life.

4

I’d give you the tree of lifeBut it would have to die

I’d give my world for your smileBut even now you can only cry

I want to share this place with someone, but I haven’t met them yet.

This is a spot for soul mates. Then again true blue best friends can share what only a soul mate can.

Why do I romanticize everything? Music, life, living… If envy is a sin, what is wanting to be the cause?

Funny how people smoke when they cannot catch their breath. Smoke does not clean these emotions.

Fumigation’s gone awry. What do my beloved poets say at times like these?

My words feel bitter in this mouth. Their origins, an embarrassment. My bards belong in these thoughts and spaces.

They belong to the breezes that dance with the trees. They belong to these woods.

I have timeI’m afraid I’m losing it

So glad I don’t own a watchThe convenience lets these worries transmit

5

I took the path less traveledAnd found out that I bleed

But without filling our life’s lowsThe highs remain empty

This tree is almost ideal. But when you already know your perfect tree,

convenient bodies are only temporary. Yet, the slight reflection of my tree in this one is enough for now.

The worst that can happen is you’ll fall. In terms of terrible results, this is not so bad.

Limbs may break in the process, but that is the sacrifice one must make to trust.

The greater the fall, the larger the gain. Trees growing on cliffs are perfect for this exercise in faith.

You climb twenty feet for a two hundred foot fall. Minimal effort with the ultimate reward.

This is my American dream.

6

I have started to become a citizen of the forest. On nice days like today, the woods and paths that lead to the beach are crawling with people.

I feel like a native creature as I freeze at every snapped twig or muffled voice. I’ve learned how to move without the

sounds of humanity plaguing my footsteps. Leaning against this living giant, I feel welcome.

The indentation of the trunk embraces my fetal form, a wild recliner.

Blissful solitude always seems to be interrupted by crass laughter. Humans cut in front of my alcove;

our eyes briefly meet before they deny my presence.Feet crush plants that block their path.Human destruction and desecration.

I am human.My welcome’s been revoked.

The tree suddenly stiff, the small creatures once again distrusting of my presence. I am a foreigner here.

These woods are made for walking, so, that’s what we must do. Every person deserves the seclusion and safety of their spot in wilderness. I’d give them mine, but it doesn’t work this way. I allowed others into a

few of the spots I claimed as my own, and the sanctity was gone. They turned those secret places into just another cool hang out in the woods. They don’t see the garden of Gods, and ignorance is only their bliss. So,

go. Go out to find your place in the wild. These woods have a room for everyone.

7