Nature has its own special type of silence. When I am alone, embraced by it, there is no true absence of sound. On the contrary, you can still hear the breath of the wind as it exhales through the trees. Songbirds create a pleasing hallelujah chorus in surround sound, and the water broadcasts a relaxing symphony as it trickles, splashes, and tumbles its way over the rocks. There is even a barely audible sound when the snow falls on a still winter morning. If you turn your face towards the sky, each flake pirouettes slowly to the ground, and when you hold as still as you possibly can without breathing, I swear you can hear the flakes kiss the earth as they land.This audible silence is medicine for my soul. It is a space that is void of human interference; the not always pleasant tirades and hurtful language that can spill from the human tongue. I have had far too much of that type of noise in my lifetime. The type of noise that sends me spinning out of control and back down into the dark abyss of ugly memories. The type of sounds that trigger my psyche and push it back into that illogical, reactionary space of believing I am once again in danger.Living in the woods is truly the best medicine for my PTSD, however there are times when this bucolic slice of heaven on earth becomes uncomfortable. When there are acres of forest, there are wild animals of the edible kind. Where there are wild animals of the edible kind, there are hunters with guns. Hunters with guns create loud, startling noises that can cause me to jump right out of my skin if I am not prepared for it. I also happen to live in a state with a certain percentage of residents who feel a need to stockpile arms for their own protection. I know the difference between the sound of a hunter’s high-powered rifle or shotgun, and a semi-automatic weapon. The semi-automatic weapon is not a tool for hunters. Its sole purpose is to kill humans. The woods happen to be a favorite place for some of these individuals to do their target practice and when they do, I don’t just jump out of my skin, it makes me want to run as fast as I can and shelter for cover. The noise of rapid gunfire in midst of these natural surroundings is disturbing, to say the least. But the endless rounds of rapid gunfire with multiple weapons is terrifying. It feels like living in a war zone. Even when I am at a safe distance away from the actual shooting, and the wind carries the echoes of the intrusive sound to my ears, my PTSD triggered response is through the roof.Guns are such a controversial subject in this country. Gun lovers stand firm on their Constitutional right to bear arms, while families of victims of gun violence stand just as firmly in their belief in gun reform laws. A heated stalemate that’s void of compromise, while thousands continue to die each year due to gun violence. My personal stance on guns is a mixed bag. I grew up in a place where a large percentage of families were fed by family members who hunted wild game. This was an affordable way for many to keep food on the table, especially those with more limited incomes. I grew up in one of those households. In our house, we had a lot of guns, but those guns were kept safe inside a gun cabinet and we were taught at an early age how to safely handle and shoot those guns. The end-game goal was the ability to use guns to hunt for food. I, however, had zero interest in killing animals, and still do, even if it meant there would be no food on the table. But there were others in my family who carried out that deed, so I did not have to...Read More in the show notes on my website at awomaninthewoods.comQuestion of the Week:When you are faced with a difficult memory, what steps do you take to move beyond it?You can email your answers to me at: tracy@awomaninthewoods.com or record your message from your computer or mobile device on Speakpipe. The URL for Speakpipe is: speakpipe.com/awomaninthewoods.