joysweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
joysweeper) wrote2007-07-24 07:50 am
joysweeper) wrote2007-07-24 07:50 am
Entry tags:
The Woods
I remember something we did in my Composition class. I found the paper. It's... interesting. Essentially, we read the prompts and wrote our first impulses down(detail encouraged), then when it was over were told what they mean. Unfortunately I didn't write anything but the responses down. I wish I knew more about this activity.
1. You're at the edge of a forest. Describe it.
It's a big, dark wood, mostly pines that stretch upwards as if to brush the sky, sighing in the breeze and touching their sweeping branches together like robed ancients conferring. The most amazing smell wafts from them; spicy, vivid pine and an old, damp darkness beneath it, of soil built up from hundreds of years of shed needles. It smells like life. This forest isn't really old; the pines are only just beginning to be replaced with slower-growing trees. But it feels ancient. As old as the world, and as vast. There is wildlife, but the presence of the great pines makes it seem quieter, less important.
2. A path is visible in the forest.
Between two of the pines, overhung and made into a tunnel by their dark branches, I see a hint of a trail. This might be one of the paths deer use when going from the forest to this field every morning and evening. I walk closer, feeling my shoes flatten the damp ridges of earth. The tunnel-like trail winds, meandering, as the deer must have done, nibbling on branch ends. It's not much of a trail, narrow and grassy as it is with only deer hooves to form it. But I might be able to pass through.
3. You venture in a and find a key. What do you do with it?
The overhanging pine branches rain moisture and their scent onto my head whenever I brush them. The bowed undergrowth of the path crackles wetly under my shoes. Deer hooves are narrow enough to pass through this carpet without damaging much of it, but now and again I see a broad, long crush print, like the boot of a fellow human. Or perhaps a bear, but I do hope it isn't the latter. In one of these crush prints something gleams brightly. I pause to look. It's a key, a coppery key, flat and mundane, like the ones used everywhere in modern cars and homes. I hesitate, then stoop to pick it up. The key is cold and wet in my fingers. A keyring is attatched to it, but the ring is otherwise empty. I slide it into a pocket. Maybe I can find the owner.
4. Going farther, you find a cup. What do you do with it?
I keep heading down the deer trail. A jay scolds me loudly, making me jump, and continues to do so until I have walked far enough down the path that it is no longer bothered. I smile and shake my head- silly me, jumping at a random jay- and forge ahead. There is something red ahead of me, in another of the crush prints. It's a disposable plastic cup, white on the inside, bright red on the outside. The rim is slightly cracked, but otherwise it looks as new as if it had just come from a store. "First the key, now the cup," I think to myself. "Odd." I pick the cup up, too - can't leave trash in the woods - and walk onwards. The trees here aren't pines; there is also more space between them and more light from above, but the path is still here.
5. You see a wall before you. Describe it.
But where it ends, I can see, there is a low, rectangular obstruction. As I head closer, I see that it is a brick wall, crumbled and wet, part of a set of four. The other have worn away, but this one, while lumpish and only about five feet long, remains barely upright. There is moss and lichen growing on and in it. The cup in my hand crackles slightly.
6. You see through to the other side of the wall. What do you see?
I walk close to the wall and glance over it. A hill rises out of the ground ahead. It, like the wall, is long and low. The hill is covered in long, dewey grass, and none of the trees are growing from it. It looks like any of the hills gouged up and deposited by glaciers in eons past, but there is a granite boulder half-buried close to the top. The boulder's surface catches the light and reflects it in sparks of color.
7. You get yourself to the other side of the wall. How?
I set the cup atop the moss-covered brick wall, deciding to come back for it later. Then I step off the path and into the wet leaf litter. It's mostly old oak leaves, but I think some might be maple. The leaves feel damp, very damp, under my shoes. I walk through them and around the wall. I'd like a better look at that odd boulder.
8. There is a scene here. Describe it.
The hill is steeper than I thought, but I make good time. I have to wonder how that boulder got there. Glaciers? Or the work of man? I stop when I see the top of the hill and the long, low mount at the very summit, crowned by another granite figure. A tombstone. I bite my lip, then step close enough to read it slowly.
*************
Okay, the exercise, I was told, was designed by psychologists.
The forest is supposed to represent one's view of society. Certain of my classmates envisioned a spooky eyes-filled wood, others a happy, sunny Disney-esque one.
I don't remember what the path meant.
The key represents education. What is done with it represents how one regards it. Certain of my classmates found a bone key which he then hurled into the trunk of a tree.
The cup is self-image and- get this- one's sexuality. Certain of my classmates pictured a jewled chalice; another a sippy-cup which was then thrown away because it moved.
The wall is a representation of life's obstacles. Lots of huge cinderblock obstructions among my classmates.
I don't really remember what the next one meant. I think it's supposed to be the life goal.
How one gets to the other side of the wall is how one deals with obstacles in life. Lots of blowing stuff up in certain of my classmates.
The scene is supposed to be how one looks at one's future. One classmate had a gingerbread house; another had a swordfight. Heh.
I guess that says a certain amount of not-so-cheery stuff about me. I wish I knew more.
1. You're at the edge of a forest. Describe it.
It's a big, dark wood, mostly pines that stretch upwards as if to brush the sky, sighing in the breeze and touching their sweeping branches together like robed ancients conferring. The most amazing smell wafts from them; spicy, vivid pine and an old, damp darkness beneath it, of soil built up from hundreds of years of shed needles. It smells like life. This forest isn't really old; the pines are only just beginning to be replaced with slower-growing trees. But it feels ancient. As old as the world, and as vast. There is wildlife, but the presence of the great pines makes it seem quieter, less important.
2. A path is visible in the forest.
Between two of the pines, overhung and made into a tunnel by their dark branches, I see a hint of a trail. This might be one of the paths deer use when going from the forest to this field every morning and evening. I walk closer, feeling my shoes flatten the damp ridges of earth. The tunnel-like trail winds, meandering, as the deer must have done, nibbling on branch ends. It's not much of a trail, narrow and grassy as it is with only deer hooves to form it. But I might be able to pass through.
3. You venture in a and find a key. What do you do with it?
The overhanging pine branches rain moisture and their scent onto my head whenever I brush them. The bowed undergrowth of the path crackles wetly under my shoes. Deer hooves are narrow enough to pass through this carpet without damaging much of it, but now and again I see a broad, long crush print, like the boot of a fellow human. Or perhaps a bear, but I do hope it isn't the latter. In one of these crush prints something gleams brightly. I pause to look. It's a key, a coppery key, flat and mundane, like the ones used everywhere in modern cars and homes. I hesitate, then stoop to pick it up. The key is cold and wet in my fingers. A keyring is attatched to it, but the ring is otherwise empty. I slide it into a pocket. Maybe I can find the owner.
4. Going farther, you find a cup. What do you do with it?
I keep heading down the deer trail. A jay scolds me loudly, making me jump, and continues to do so until I have walked far enough down the path that it is no longer bothered. I smile and shake my head- silly me, jumping at a random jay- and forge ahead. There is something red ahead of me, in another of the crush prints. It's a disposable plastic cup, white on the inside, bright red on the outside. The rim is slightly cracked, but otherwise it looks as new as if it had just come from a store. "First the key, now the cup," I think to myself. "Odd." I pick the cup up, too - can't leave trash in the woods - and walk onwards. The trees here aren't pines; there is also more space between them and more light from above, but the path is still here.
5. You see a wall before you. Describe it.
But where it ends, I can see, there is a low, rectangular obstruction. As I head closer, I see that it is a brick wall, crumbled and wet, part of a set of four. The other have worn away, but this one, while lumpish and only about five feet long, remains barely upright. There is moss and lichen growing on and in it. The cup in my hand crackles slightly.
6. You see through to the other side of the wall. What do you see?
I walk close to the wall and glance over it. A hill rises out of the ground ahead. It, like the wall, is long and low. The hill is covered in long, dewey grass, and none of the trees are growing from it. It looks like any of the hills gouged up and deposited by glaciers in eons past, but there is a granite boulder half-buried close to the top. The boulder's surface catches the light and reflects it in sparks of color.
7. You get yourself to the other side of the wall. How?
I set the cup atop the moss-covered brick wall, deciding to come back for it later. Then I step off the path and into the wet leaf litter. It's mostly old oak leaves, but I think some might be maple. The leaves feel damp, very damp, under my shoes. I walk through them and around the wall. I'd like a better look at that odd boulder.
8. There is a scene here. Describe it.
The hill is steeper than I thought, but I make good time. I have to wonder how that boulder got there. Glaciers? Or the work of man? I stop when I see the top of the hill and the long, low mount at the very summit, crowned by another granite figure. A tombstone. I bite my lip, then step close enough to read it slowly.
*************
Okay, the exercise, I was told, was designed by psychologists.
The forest is supposed to represent one's view of society. Certain of my classmates envisioned a spooky eyes-filled wood, others a happy, sunny Disney-esque one.
I don't remember what the path meant.
The key represents education. What is done with it represents how one regards it. Certain of my classmates found a bone key which he then hurled into the trunk of a tree.
The cup is self-image and- get this- one's sexuality. Certain of my classmates pictured a jewled chalice; another a sippy-cup which was then thrown away because it moved.
The wall is a representation of life's obstacles. Lots of huge cinderblock obstructions among my classmates.
I don't really remember what the next one meant. I think it's supposed to be the life goal.
How one gets to the other side of the wall is how one deals with obstacles in life. Lots of blowing stuff up in certain of my classmates.
The scene is supposed to be how one looks at one's future. One classmate had a gingerbread house; another had a swordfight. Heh.
I guess that says a certain amount of not-so-cheery stuff about me. I wish I knew more.