Shanna The Liminality of Wilderness, Especially When Lost

The natural world is often the baffling focus of science which tries to categorize it, and systematically tame the wild. This is mere amusing irony to a poetry major who laughs at science everytime nature tosses a kink in its attempts of organization. In his essay Wilderness as Axis Mundi, Redick says "Wilderness becomes symbolically active as a liminal place, a place of ambiguity, a bewildering place where nothing is as it seems because there are no points of orientation," (Redick, 5). Anyone who has been lost in the woods knows this feeling all too well. One path looks familiar, but darkness casts uncertainty on the decision of which path is the correct way home. Nothing is as it seems, or seemed to be in the light of day. One wrong turn leads to another, and soon you're tripping down railroad tracks hoping for the least glimpse of civilization. Dillard describes this overwhelming feeling in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. "What I see sets me swaying. Size and distance and the sudden swelling of meanings confuse me, bowl me over," (Dillard, 29). The size of the forrest, when coupled with the distance you have walked cause confusion. Meaning is tantamount as it hangs on every turn taken. Meaning: the cause for walking in the first place. Wilderness as a place of liminality is made painfully clear while traversing unknown territory, feeling tiny and insignificant when compared to the trees which reign in their natural homes. Paths are created in accordance with the trees, but none point to home. The wind may whisper through them, but the language is foreign and unparalled in wonder.