I Go Among Trees and Sit Still
There are moments in life when noise becomes unbearable, and not just the literal noise of traffic, phones, or endless notifications, but the inner noise too: the worry, the pressure, the constant tug to do more, be more, produce more.
It’s in these moments that Wendell Berry’s poem “I Go Among Trees and Sit Still” speaks to me most deeply. It begins so simply:
I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
That image of a person stepping quietly into the woods and becoming still is both powerful and unfortunately rare in modern life. Berry isn’t just talking about nature but also about surrender. About letting go of the need to constantly move, act, or speak. When I read this, I think of the times I’ve escaped into the woods or a park with sometimes no intention to reflect, but simply to get away. And yet, in those moments of quiet, something always happens. My breathing slows and the thoughts that once seemed so urgent begin to feel less threatening. As Berry says in lines six and seven, “Then what I am afraid of comes./ I live for a while in its sight.”
These two lines cut deep. It’s so honest. Because stillness isn’t always peaceful. Sometimes, it brings you face to face with the very thing you’ve been avoiding, like fear, grief, regret, loneliness. But Berry doesn’t frame this confrontation as a punishment. It’s a kind of necessary presence. A temporary but honest visit with what haunts us.
And then, perhaps my favorite part:
What I fear in it leaves it,
and the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.
I’ve felt this, and maybe you have too. When I finally sit and face what I’ve been running away from is when I find my song. That moment when the thing you’ve been running from feels, just for a breath, like something you can hold. Something you don’t have to fix or run from. You can just sit with it, like Berry does, and let the trees do what they’ve always done: stand still, breathe deeply, and hold space.
This poem reminds me that sometimes, the most radical thing I can do is nothing at all. Just to go among trees. Sit still. Listen. Let the world and my mind settle. And in that stillness, maybe (even) begin to heal.
