The Rainforest: Processing the Duality of Life

I now live in the rainforest. 

The roots of the ancient trees that line my path ensure my feet never take an even step.

Now, my brain and body almost always work in sync, to ensure I navigate the unlevel, natural, and untamed terrain of wild roots, vines, rocks, of all shapes and sizes, without falling, tripping or my feet being impaled.

The environment strikes innate awe for both the beauty and chaos of the raw natural earth. 

It wasn’t always this way. I didn’t always live here.

I was born and raised and spent the majority of my life up until this point in a curated park. The grass, trees and landscape were well manicured.

Any bumps or unevenness; potential hurdles or hazards of the park were visible and sometimes indicated with big orange cones to ensure my safety.

There were clear and well-defined areas that filled the open landscape of the park, meant for me to engage and perform in specific activities at specific times to specific standards. 

There were highly visible paths of concrete that led me to these various areas.

I thrived in the park.

I believed the well-defined areas that were tailored for different stages of my development were meant for me.

 If I had time and chose to run wild and free, it was only because I knew I was safe. 

There were clear indicators of consistency and besides the large roots of the century old oak trees that were carefully planted in aesthetically pleasing rows, there were no signs of hazard in sight. 

And if I wandered too far off, far enough to see the outskirts of the adjacent rainforest, I knew the safety of the park would be there if I just turned around and went back.

 There at the park, my feet were clean, delicate, and well protected by the soft grass and well-designed paths. 

But something unexpected happened and now although it was not my intention, I live in the rainforest.

I live barefoot, but my feet don’t hurt or bleed as much as they did when I first came here, albeit unwillingly, to live in the rainforest. I have developed thick skin on my soles, so I rarely feel the stinging pain of roots, prickers and sharp sticks I navigate.

My feet are always dirty, until I find natural bodies of water to bathe in, however, these are inconsistent and fleeting based on the amount of rain there is. My feet become dirty again, over and over. 

I’ve come to appreciate my calloused and often dirty feet, as they allow me to navigate new and ever-changing terrain, which can be beautifully treacherous. 

Some amazing humans live with me here in the rainforest as well. Many of them are here unintentionally as I find myself, and just like me, as much as they wanted and longed to go back to the park, the unexpected circumstances of their life would not allow for that. We share a collective deep and sometimes palpable pain of longing, and although it looks different for each of us, we have all struggled immensely to get used to living in a place where we did not at first, perceive safety or comfort in, a place that was very different from what we knew and where we believed we belonged and had chosen to be. 

Some other amazing humans have made the rainforest their home by choice. They started slowly, going back and forth from the park to the rainforest on their own accord, unlike me and the others who ended up here unintentionally. These humans purposely chose the wild and unpredictable beauty of the ever changing, un-curated, natural habitat the rainforest offers.

No matter what brought us together to be here now, we find ourselves making paths together. They are rarely used at the same time and for the same purpose; they are not lined with concrete and do not always lead to a known destination, but they are trails none the less; narrow- where the terrain already been disturbed by the bare feet of others, making it less painful, less scary and unknown, for other (especially newer) rainforest dwellers to navigate.

The first time I was a path in the rainforest, I felt joy I had never known before, joy that could simply not exist in the park.

To know someone else was there, journeying before me, making the path a bit clearer, smoother, less treacherous to navigate. A joy filled with the greatest sense of relief and validation.

Now, here in the rainforest, when I encounter another human, I greet them by first by looking into their eyes, to see if they are bright, calm, frightened, weary, hazy, panicked, or intensely focused. And then I shift my gaze to their feet.

If they are not yet muddied and dark, just dirty and bleeding, swollen, I make a conscious effort for them to notice my eyes, although sometimes weary, they are usually now clear, confident and calm.

Once they feel safe, knowing that I have clear eyes while being in the same beautiful yet harsh environment they are in, I look down, in hopes they will follow my gaze, to see my feet.

Some are shocked at first, as they didn’t notice that my feet are completely camouflaged by the dark mud of the rainforest ground. They often then look at their own dirty, damaged bleeding feet. I can almost read the thoughts written in their micro-expressions.

 “How can another human here in the rainforest, with feet like that, be calm and clear eyed, how are they not panicked, scared, disgusted, or anxious about the state of their feet looking like that.”

This is where I smile, pause, allow time for integration, and when they are ready, I lead them to the most utilized paths of the rainforest (that I know of at this time),  ones that will no doubt continue to  hurt their already wounded feet, but will allow for less pain and obstacles, less fear and anxiety about the path, as they know it has been navigated by many humans before them. 

When I meet those with clear, calm and wise eyes, those that emulate peace and confidence, much more so than mine do,I look at their feet just to be comforted by what I know will look like mine, but even more adapted to the environment.

I instinctively know they have created many paths, some hidden, paths to areas I have never been. I have learned through trial and error those paths are not always the ones that align with my journey, but I appreciate them none the less and am in awe of the effort, pain, perseverance and energy it took to make them. An automatic reverence and feelings of gratitude encompass me, when I meet these humans. 

Now that I have been living in the rainforest for about 2 years, I have realized that ever since I got here, I have in some ways working to make it more appealing to those who still live in the park. Those who I so desperately want to invite to visit the rainforest just so they know it exists and what it is like living here. They do not need to come in, just see the outskirts, perhaps navigate and  play amongst a few ancient trees that teeter on the border of where the park ends and rainforest begins.

I have found that this is very uncomfortable for people that are happy at the park, as I once was. It is annoying to be invited to some place you don’t want to go and even more irritating to have someone give you unsolicited information about a place you know exists but that you have no desire or inclination to enter. As many see my muddied and calloused feet, and appreciate the comfort and safety the park provides them, on their well-curated paths. 

I know this because I experienced that same discomfort and perturbance when others invited me to see the outskirts of the rainforest, when I was living happily at the park, before there was no choice but to live in the rainforest. 

It also perturbs the people who have chosen to make the rainforest their home, who do not wish to be exploited or have to explain anything about their decision to live in the rainforest. 

I know this because as I have gotten comfortable here, and it is unsettling when others look in wonder at our muddied feet and naturally stunning but chaotic environment of the rain forest.

But alas, my life at the park, before I lived in the rainforest, put me on a path to a career that inadvertently causes pain and sometimes harm for unintentional rainforest dwellers. The ones who can no longer live at the park. 

 That career is now over and I see the world through a new lens, a revisionist lens. And no matter how hard I want to just live with my fellow rainforest dwellers at times, there is an perpetual yearning in me-perhaps driven by a desire for personal atonement, to bring those on their way to (or currently in) my past career field, away from the park to the outskirts of the rainforest. I want them to know it exists, that is beautiful and painful and that so much of what makes sense in the park does not apply here, no matter how hard it is to believe, and it is amazing to witness other humans make their own paths in the wild. 

And so here I am. 

Continuing to navigate life in the rainforest and doing my best to help those who are newer residents here, to find their paths, and to know they can live not only unafraid, but confidently and in their own power, with clarity in their eyes and mud on their feet.

I know I can not bring an entire professional field to the rainforest, especially when it has harmed many of its current residents and I know an entire professional field would not want to dissolve itself, or change so much that it is no longer a recognizable field or career. 

So, I will walk to the park, with my unpalatable feet, carrying seeds from what seems to be an infinite amount of trees making up the rainforest canopy. I will plant them, near the curated pavement and well-designed park areas. I will water them and find others to do the same. And I will watch in awe, as they grow, and the next generation of park dwellers becomes familiar with them, interested in them, and unafraid of any potentially tumultuous roots. This way, they will understand the beauty of the rainforest and will change the profession that unintentionally misunderstands and mistreats rainforest dwellers.

And if any humans of the next generation happen to unintentionally end up here, with me in the rainforest one day, we will walk unpaved paths together, with strong, sturdy, muddy feet and eyes free of fear and full of clarity.