I can see why Stephen King chose cold and remote places for a lot of his stories. There is something eerie in the air when you’re so far away from another soul, no one around to save you. That’s the beauty in fear, it reminds us of our humanity.

I’ve been secluded in so many forests I’ve lost count, and every time I feel as if I’ve veered too far from the marked trees and footprints of those who came before me, I remind myself of this, I was meant to be lost. How else can I test my ability to trust myself, my intuition. And so, my intuition grows.

Like the morning, I fell asleep upon a softened White Birch tree, alone. I don’t know how long I was asleep for but when I awoke there was a gentle light above me, and the birds gave out small squeaking chirps. Like an alarm from nature.

High risk, a lot have been telling me. I don’t think I’m alone in the behavior, and for those who understand know, these peaceful moments alone in nature are healing. I can’t prove it in any scientific way, nevertheless my nervous system is humming, calm. My spirits are lifted, and I find myself aligned with those who see my soul.

Cold remote places. Where we have to be alone, until the storm is over. It makes us appreciate the thaw even more. It allows us to see ourselves through struggle and keep going. It’s a way in which we can face our fears, of the unknown, and their outcomes.

There isn’t any day without night. No Spring without Winter, no pleasure without pain. No strength without fear.