In troubled times I always turn to nature. Before I began to talk I shared a language with trees and birds and the sky, a kind of awe of appreciation. So watching hawks glide overhead and currents rippling in the river will always soothe me, even thinking of these calms me now. Fear not. See the heart in the thick moss on the oak six miles up the mountain. Benevolence, patience, trust, and acceptance are all around us, nature models these, whether we realize it or not.
I find heart shaped stones, heart shaped puddles, bits of heart shaped fungus, heart shaped clouds, the more I look the more I find. Others who collect these have the same experience; we believe we attract what we appreciate. Building a library, a stockpile of symbols, is a handy way to immerse oneself in reassurance when times are challenging. Some people use music from their past, others rely on comforting clothes, or favorite foods, or a loved one’s touch. There will be times when none of these are sufficient. That’s when I turn to my favorite tree.
Everywhere I have lived I found a broad, sturdy trunk where I could rest my heart flush against the bark. Oak. Redwood. Madrone. Elm. Approach with respect and intention, and position yourself so you are standing on earth. (I avoid standing on roots, to be polite). Press your chest against the trunk and share the vibration of your beating heart. Be there. Breathe. Sometimes you might cry. Release your troubles and be sheltered by the timeless stillness this tree represents. Ask for guidance. Make promises. Ask for forgiveness. This tree will be your witness, your guardian, your ally. When you move away to a new place, say goodbye to your tree, and then find a new one.
Wrenching loss and the grief that follows can be shared with a tree. Resentment and bitterness and questions of power and ethics are worthy considerations in a human lifetime, and trees can tolerate our shortsightedness, our pettiness, our smallness. They are big. They endure. They preside.
On your way to your tree, and on your way back, look at the path, or the street, or the sky. Look for signs. A feather with two strong colors tells me to see both sides. A leaf like a big hand reminds me to reach out. One of my favorite trees on the Panhandle of Golden Gate Park made me want to sing a weird old country song, because half of the tree was shaggy and the other velvet smooth. In my mind I heard the cowboy singing, all twangy, “Let the smooth side show, let the rough side drag.” The shaggy bark absorbed my tears and reminded me that we all have rough sides, and we all will know rough times.
In these times, when fear rises, find solace in your library of symbols, seek and give support among your friends, and lean into the tree you choose to shelter you. Breathe. Share the beating or your heart. Connect to the deep wisdom of the earth and know that you are loved.
It’s what I do, also. Find respite and joy and forgiveness on these Great Plains where I love and truly live. Thank you, Elisa, for sharing your thoughts here.