When my feet steps on mystical rug of moss, city dissolves behind my back and a vivid world of deep shades of green comes into focus. The moment I am surrounded by thick forest, the world goes silent. For a moment, nothing hapens. Few minutes later, nothing continues to happen. And this, it seems, can go on for eternity and beyond. Every single moment spent there is like a snapshot of something grand happening. Every single moment seems frozen in time, but at the same time, it is a part of process that moves the mountains and shatters rocks.
A forest is a calm, but mighty giant. The weather is his mood, and there isn’t a force in the world that is capable of suppressing this mood or controlling such unpredictable temper.
My existence here does not need to be acknowledged in any particular way, and there is no one to acknowledge it. This is the kind of existence that induces a powerful revelation described by words “This is not about you. Nothing is about you. You are not the center of anything.” It’s a chaos. An elegant, self-organizing chaos, that does not need any deliberate order, or supervising force to govern it.