Things I learned in the Woods Alone…
Sometimes, life has a way of pulling us back to our roots. Last year, I felt an unshakable urge to strip everything down, to leave the noise and endless screens, the distractions, and constant demands. So, I made a leap and moved to a secluded cabin deep in the woods. That year taught me more than I’d expected—it pushed me to my edge, opened my eyes, and reminded me of what’s essential. I will be opening up deeper and deeper in to these lessons for years to come but here is some of what I already understand about my time in the quiet embrace of the forest.
Solitude felt like a mirror, stripping away all pretense and forcing me to look myself dead in the eyes, facing who I really was. I discovered a strength I didn’t know I had. I learned to stand tall, even when the weight of loneliness made my knees tremble. In the silence, I found a quiet strength, a flame within that no wind could extinguish. It wasn’t the loud, aggressive kind of strength, but a resilient force that kept me grounded.
Time slowed down, and every detail sharpened—the rustling leaves, the calls of distant birds, the shifting light at dusk. I learned to savor each moment, the beauty and power of being fully present. With no distractions, my mind roamed freely down untamed paths, digging up ideas that felt alive and raw, untouched by the clutter of daily life. Solitude forced me to become my own strength and my own guide, to be my own anchor and compass, finding courage within.
Inner peace didn’t come easily in the beginning. But over time, in the quiet spaces between my thoughts, I learned to make peace with my scars and struggles, as if slipping into a calm lake, soothing and healing. The quiet brought a new perspective, showing how much I had relied on those who had supported me over the years. In their absence, I saw the true value of those connections. Solitude softened my heart, revealing how precious and fleeting human connections are, like fireflies blinking in the dark.
Alone, stripped of outside influence, I sifted through the layers of my soul, finding values that were mine alone, a code I could live by without apology. In the stillness, my dreams grew clearer, like stars slowly brightening in a night sky. With fewer distractions, my focus sharpened like a blade, cutting through the noise and diving into what truly mattered. Solitude made me my own toughest critic, but it also taught me gentleness, to hold my heart kindly, as I would another’s, and to cut myself slack when I’d done my best.
With no one to bail me out, I learned to think on my feet, discovering paths through my doubts and finding solutions to my own messes. Solitude taught me that nothing lasts forever, toughening me to let go without losing myself, while teaching me the art of boundaries and how to carve out space for my spirit to breathe. There was no applause, no validation in solitude—only me, standing firm in my own worth, rooted like a tree that needed no outside approval. Over time, solitude became a cherished friend, its quiet a balm, its stillness a gift that helped me find my edge.
In the wild silence, I felt a rough, raw connection to the earth, grounding me in something bigger than myself. Solitude drew me into silence until it became full of meaning, something fierce and unspoken. Without noise drowning it out, I learned to trust the subtle voice of intuition—a whisper through the unknown that was raw, unfiltered, and never lied.
Solitude had shown me my own battles, and in that grit, I found empathy and respect for the struggles others carried. Knowing the quiet of my own soul, I learned to honor the space that others sought, a soft understanding blooming within me, ready to face whatever came next. Living alone in the woods for a year wasn’t easy. But it was worth every lonely night, every challenge, and every moment of doubt. It has became part of me, grounding me as I re-entered the world with a new resilience and sense of purpose. If you ever feel the call to retreat, even just for a short while, answer it. You might be surprised at the strength and insight you uncover in the stillness.
