Supernal Silence and Unfathomable Peace

My friend dropped me off at a road in the Redwood Forest that led down to Smith River. It turned out to be a popular spot for both tourists and locals, so when I saw a narrow trail that veered off from the road, I took it, hoping to find a place to walk far from the madding crowd. At first it was an easy trail, but then it ascended into hills that had been hidden in the immensely tall redwoods. (It’s hard to describe these massive trees without reverting to the trite adjective “towering”, but they did tower. In many cases they were so tall and the woods so thick it was impossible to stand back far enough to see their tops.)

The trail grew more difficult and I was grateful for my trekking pole — it aided with both balance and sure-footedness. Even though the cars and people were not far away, the trees absorbed the sound, leaving nothing for me to hear but the sound of my stepping feet, the zip of a passing insect, the thud of a falling leaf.

I moved slowly, not just for safety but to experience fully this confluence of the forest and me. It seemed strange to think that hundreds — thousands? — of years ago, the first seed took root. And that single seed contained an entire universe of forest, events, beings, birth and death, that ultimately drew me in.

A bench in a small clearing caught my attention. A plaque on the backrest said, “…seated here in contemplation lost, my thought discovers vaster space beyond. Supernal silence and unfathomable peace.”

Of course I sat. Contemplated. Listened to the silence. Felt at peace. Wondered what I would learn and experience if I could sit there for hours. I know what I would feel if I sat there in stillness too long — stiff — so after a half hour, I answered the siren call of the trail.

Later, I saw another bench. This one exhorted me to “Rest and be grateful.” I rested, pulled out my small hunk of cheese, and thought of all I had to be grateful for. The bench. The cheese I savored. The trees. The path that afforded me relative safety in my adventure. My walking stick. Knees that still worked. Feet that took me where I needed to go. Friends who brought richness to my life. The supernal silence. The unfathomable peace.

When I finished the snack and litany of gratitude, I continued my journey.

Shrieks of playing children broke the silence. As I waded past one group, a boy shouted hello. I was so deep in my silence, I couldn’t return the greeting. The woman said, “It was nice of you to say hello.” That brought me to a stop. I turned, and with a finger to my lips, responded to her rebuke with a whispered, “one does not say hello in church.”

In the resulting silence, I headed down the path. It seemed strange that a mystical place for me was simply a playground for others. Most people I’d seen had driven a bit, got out of their cars to take pictures of each other against the backdrop of trees, then drove a bit further, stopped, and took more photos. Others had boats, rafts, and swimwear, headed for watery play.

As I picked my way down the trail, setting my feet carefully and leaning on my pole in the steep post, I had to smile at my pretensions. Wasn’t I playing too? Playing at mysticism? Playing at adventure?

At that very moment, a woman came up the trail with her three noisy unleashed dogs. The dogs surrounded me, barking and snarling, nipping at my pants. The woman screamed at me to stand still, that I was scaring them. And then one of them bit me. Not a bad bite, just a small break in the skin and a bruise, but huh? That was the third time I’d been menaced by dogs since I’ve been here. Don’t people up here train their dogs to obey?

So much for safe adventures. So much for peace.

Despite the ignominious end to my adventure, somewhere inside me and forever a part of me, is the stillness I’d found sitting on the bench, my back pressed against the words “…seated here in contemplation lost, my thought discovers vaster space beyond. Supernal silence and unfathomable peace.”


(Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.”)


14 Responses to “Supernal Silence and Unfathomable Peace”

  1. Coco Ihle Says:

    That woman’s uncaring rudeness makes me angry. Grrrrrr! I think it would have been interesting if you had taken a picture of her, the dogs and your wound, just to see what she’d say. That might have shut her up as she envisioned a lawsuit.

    Glad you decided not to let her steal your peace!

  2. rami ungar the writer Says:

    Sounds like you found what pagans have always found in nature. Majesty, divinity, peace, that sort of thing.

  3. Cicy Rosado Says:

    hope you take care of the bites better safe the sorry!!

  4. Constance Says:

    She should have been reported if the bite broke your skin. Dogs should be checked. Leash Laws?

  5. leesis Says:

    what a lovely balance…the serenity and nurture of nature with the reality of existing with others…and their unruly dogs.
    I’m sure there’s a message in there somewhere :).

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      I’m sure you’re right, but I have no idea what that message might be. Maybe: don’t get cocky. Maybe: be careful what you wish for, or simply be careful. Maybe: everything has a price – magic is not free. Maybe: for every yin there is a yang. One thing I know it doesn’t mean is to stay at home and be safe, otherwise I would have missed out on the beauty, silence, and stillness.

  6. Juliet Waldron Says:

    And unruly children. Really, people have no sense of the numinous or the sacred anymore–and they ruin it for those of us who do.

    • Ree` Edwards Says:

      “And unruly children”. Because a boy said, “Hello”? Sheesh!

      • Pat Bertram Says:

        Not unruly because the boy said hello. Unruly because they were shrieking and running around, and wouldn’t obey their mother.

        • Ree` Edwards Says:

          Oh! My apologies, I guess. I just read “shrieks of playing children”… guess I missed the part that said they weren’t obeying their Mother. But then you were there and you would know, right?

          • Pat Bertram Says:

            No need to apologize. I didn’t say in the article that they weren’t obeying. Nor did anyone say these particular children were unruly, though they were. The whole point of my article was the contrast between the silence and the noise.

  7. Mary Ann Says:

    I like your response to the lady who reprimanded you for not saying hello! When we get lost in something, it can be hard to talk or find words. Hopefully she will figure that out some day. 🙂

  8. pamkirst2014 Says:

    What????? It’s unbelievable that someone yelled at YOU to be still when her dogs were running loose. Your photos are amazing; your experience was awful!

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