Encounters with Silence

When you arrive at Frog Bay Tribal National Park¹, you’re greeted by an info kiosk, simple restroom facilities, and a sign of welcome requesting respect for the land and culture of the people who steward this bit of earth. After crossing a sturdy bridge over a deep ravine, the path takes you deep into boreal forest, home of paper birch, maple, red oak, balsam fir, and ash. The trail winds along a riparian corridor as it descends through the trees and coastal wetlands toward an undeveloped stretch of Lake Superior shoreline. The Apostle Islands dot the horizon when you stand on the sandy beach, where the hush of the forest meets the whisper of the waves, wild silence conversing in an ancient language. It was a calm day when I was there recently, so the conversation was a quiet one, but when the wind picks up, I imagine the hush becomes a howl and the whisper a wail. There are a multitude of ways to encounter silence² in a forest that meets the water.

Dagwaagin means “it is fall, autumn” and what a glorious time to experience the diversity of Frog Bay—leaves just past peak…but still abundant and glowing from above our heads and below our feet, a quality of light that only comes into being for a few weeks each year. Tiny green shoots sharing space with the huge trunks of fallen tree giants and crunchy brown foliage. Red maple leaves as big as our heads next to tiny golden birch leaves. Rainbows of vegetation carpeting the forest floor.

As I walk, I watch for the signs sharing the Anishinaabeg words for various types of plants and animals and give thanks to those who steward these lands— now, in the past, and those who will continue the work generations into the future.

As I walk, I’m reminded why it’s important to listen to the true history of the land, to know who holds it as sacred, to respect the cultures that know a certain region as kin. I’m reminded that I’m a part of the earth, and that with every step taken I can walk toward a more beautiful world if I pay attention to where I’m headed.

As I walk, I’m reminded that encountering silence doesn’t mean staying silent about things that matter—it means channeling the wisdom gleaned by each encounter into practicing active love for the world in the areas of life where I have agency.

As I walk, I listen to the hush of the forest and the whisper of the waves that lap at its shore. I give thanks again for the opportunity to visit this place, and I pause. I listen. In the air freely given by this boreal forest, the very air that sustains my body, I encounter the wildness that is still the undercurrent of the world.

What will you do this week to pause? What might you find in the silence that you encounter when you do? How will you allow the wisdom that grows from being still and listening in to inform your actions?

1. FBTNP is the first tribal national park in the United States. This 175 acre area permanently protects a large tract of at-risk boreal forest, the lower estuary and mouth of Frog Creek, and restored former reservation lands back to tribal ownership. In 2017, the Red Cliff Tribal Council formally adopted the Frog Creek Conservation Management Area (CMA), which is accessible only to tribal members. CMA (300 acres total) consists of Frog Bay Tribal National Park, 40 acres of land that was already in tribal ownership, and 80 acres of repatriated Bayfield County forestry land.

2. Speaking of encountering silence, here’s a great podcast about just that: Encountering Silence.