A Walk in the Woods🔗
The other day I was walking through the woods; wandering north along a well trodden woodland cycle route to find myself in a car park.
Cycle paths lead off to the left, right and back the way I came. I crossed the car park and saw an opening in the trees. They formed a kind of U shape indicating that someone or something liked to walk through there regularly. Upon closer inspection, though, it was fenced off. Maybe it was used by deer, or perhaps it was an old path. Not to be discouraged, I carried on walking along the old fence and came across a wooden chained gate. Some walkers before me had clearly had the same idea as myself. The fence wire, warped and trodden, gave way to a beautiful, natural woodland walk and I set off. Desire Paths carved by the footfalls of man, the role of benches adopted by trees that fell long ago, and the songs of birds bringing the surrounding trees to life.
Walking through the woods, I came across a couple of fallen trees; both of which had been struck by lightning. The first was a great and old looking tree on its side—felled by the winds of a storm long ago. Once upon a time, it likely stood 30 or more metres above the ground, arm in arm with the canopy of trees there today. Looking up showed the hole left in its wake, filling the area with sunlight. I imagined from the root to the leaves how our fallen friend curved upwards and shaped part of the landscape.
The family's spot🔗
A large desire path carved through the centre of where the tree once stood. I like to imagine how the path used to curve. I like to imagine how the lay of the land used to look and how the falling of the tree has reshaped it.
Next to it was a little social spot afforded by the other fallen lightning-struck tree and a very much alive living white tree. Tall and old enough for its leaves to merge into the canopy, its lowest branch was such that with a little know how, or a couple of tall friends, you could get a rope and a stick over it for a make-shift swing to hold on to with your hands. Just a few metres away on the leafy floor was the tree struck by lightning. It had the majority of the trunk creating a perfect bench to be part of the action and play with the hand swing. Just a little over a right angle was a smaller part of the trunk, creating another seating area to watch.
It's interesting... The smaller branch looked to be part of the same tree, it attached at the base. Unlike the rest of the tree, though, it was rounded and whole, like the tree had grown these parts after it was struck by lightning. There was enough space to sit 4 or 5 people. A slightly higher side and a slightly lower side. I decided that this was where the "mums" sit. I think the smaller kids sit there too when they want to be with their mum.
Starting along the main trunk is what I can only describe as the "overzealous dad" spot. Too high for the kids to sit on, too jagged for anyone "unenthusiastic" to sit on, this place on the bench was for a father who wants to be involved. He is excited to play and feels, he hopes, this is a good way of bonding with his kids.
Another spot to sit is next to him. It's a little more comfy and a little lower. A single dip in the wood shows there's only enough space for one. This is the seat of the favourite. He gets A*s in his best classes, and Bs in his worst. He plays a few sports. Football is his main game, but with tennis on Sunday and Cricket every few weeks, he gets good variety. He feels like he's similar enough to his dad to get along, but he's 16 now and actually he thinks "I need a little more space now". He's glad to spend time with his family. He sees his mum sitting over there chatting with the neighbour's mum with her kids running around. He thinks of how he'd rather be hanging out with his friends, or on his computer in his room, or maybe just exploring around on his own.
The trunk then strikes up into a small branch. Only a hand's length. Snapped off at the end.
On the other side is another space to sit. Enough space for 2 of the neighbour's kids and the sister. The sister cares. She cares about her family. She cares about spending time with them. She cares about the kids next door and keeping them safe and occupied until whoever's on the swing is ready to give it to someone else. The boys always call first dibs. Then the mums ask to let the kids have a go. She wishes she'd get another turn. It's not that it matters, she had one go near the start and she's not really that bothered about going on again anyway...
Another branch strikes up from the trunk. An arm's length this time. Snapped off at the end.
Still living branches around his feet create a perfect little nook for his legs. The youngest looks around at the excitement. His dad was barely sitting down, always eager to get back in. His sister has her back to him. She is talking with the other kids from next door. Owen is pretty cool. He likes Pokemon too! I wish I could have my turn again on the swing. I think they've missed my go a few times...
The rest of the tree makes its home among the roots and leaves. That's the end of the bench and the closing of the scene.
It's a beautiful scene. Troubled perhaps in places, but a scene that's alive. It's a story that can be told just from looking at the environment and the clues that are left behind. This isn't even counting the small pit where lone walkers have rested. How the natural angle of the branch means it's the best place to see both directions of the path. How that shapes how the leaves cluster on the woodland floor.
The place tells a story, and the environment shifts to how it's used. And that's what I'm wanting to talk about in this article.
World Crafting and the Shape of Britain🔗
When crafting a world with words, either imaginary or real, you take on the responsibility of knowing the words you choose to use will shape that world.
In the UK, I think words like "must", "shall", and "can't" are used to shape our world.
- "The Police must take action,"
- "The governor shall resign,"
- "The NHS can't be allowed to fail."
These words are crude tools—sharpened edge that cut off the ends of ideas. They are heavy mallets that forces others to submit. In a world like this, there's no room for more subtle words such as "like", "prefer", or "avoid".
This, I think, reflects on how we solve problems in the UK, on how we build our infrastructure, and how we come to see the world.
We build our pavements out of incredibly strong materials. It wears down slowly but after enough time or stress, eventually it will break and become unusable. We solve this problem with systems we've built. We have people who go round in vans and bring the tools to fix it and after they've fixed it; they rush off to the next job.
There's little room for subtlety when talking about that pavement. There was never the question of "how much" the pavement gets used, or how people "prefer" to use it, or how they would "like" to see it look. The pavement becomes fixed because the powerful voice of the government said how it "should" be. The idea sold to us is that we can work together to make that voice even more powerful and together we can decide what the voice's "should" is.
Compare that to a rural area. The ground is the hardened earth with thin grass on either side. The path is as wide as it needs to be for the people who use it. The path flows with the land in a way that people naturally gravitate towards. If anything were to go wrong here, say ice has caused cracks in the surface, the environment would reshape itself over time to fit how it is being used.
Which leads me on to how I see my autism.
Autism and me🔗
I moved into a house share a couple of years ago. It took a few months to sort out the stuff I didn't need, the kitchen pots and the old welcome mat. It took over a year to make my room feel "livable". Too much stuff, not enough space. My room, when designed by the architect, was to have a single king size bed and maybe a dresser. But as it stands, it needs to be storage, and an office, and a place to chill out, and it's too much stuff in too little area...
I've managed to shuffle things around to get a room that kind of works. The furniture is too big for the room, though, so there's extrusions and edges that get in the way. The furniture is not designed for the room. It was meant for another house. It's artificial. If I bump or rub or press against the same corner each day, it will not reshape or shift, it will wear down and eventually ruin.
I've had a big problem in my room for the longest time. There would just be stuff on the floor all the time. There were always some lightly used clothes, fresh washing, my coat, a bag, or a soft toy cluttering up my floor. My house mate offered the solution. They gave me one of those IKEA square boxes and said to put the lightly used clothes in there. I gave it a shot and about 40% of my mess went away. I then started using it for freshly cleaned clothes that I was putting off sorting, which took away another 20% of the mess. It put the box next to my bed so now there's no need for the clothes to go on the floor. I found a home for a few things and now my floor space is actually usable!
The inflexibility of the furniture, even though I can move it, makes me feel trapped. It feels like there are some surfaces where it doesn't matter how hard I bang on them, they will never give way. If you're thinking "why don't you do X or do Y?" then I think there's two types of that kind of statement. The first is where this solution wouldn't work. The second is far more interesting because it would.
The second type of statement shows that you're able to show a level of flexibility that I seemingly am not. If you're neurotypical, it shows how able you are to mould your surroundings. If you're neurodiverse, it shows how you've come to be able to mould your surroundings.
I think about moving away into the woods. I might like living out there. I just fear that shaping my environment around me out there may be difficult in ways I don't even know yet.
I want to be able to craft the world around me—through writing, music, building, or maybe reshaping the shed in the garden as a creative space, perhaps I could plant a few trees like the ones in the woods.