Wisdom Of Trees

It is time to pause and return to our roots in order to remain stable and resilient for the long-haul of personal and communal transformation.

Marketing Spot

It's common to think of the cycle of the year as being four seasons, but if you really look, you’ll find many more than that. Just as in our individual lives, there are many seasons within seasons within seasons.  The path is not linear. Neither is it free of obstacles.  It winds, and twists, and bends like the desert canyons and highland mountains. It moves slowly at some points and rages swift at others, like the shape of a river.  Sometimes we must plunge into the depths in order to surface wiser and stronger.

This later Fall season offers opportunity to embrace death (in its' various forms) and the process of letting go.  As the leaves fall away, the tree's energy returns inward in order to remain steady, well nourished, and rested.

Trees do not cling to the leaves as they fall.  The leaves simply fall because it is time. They fall and reveal the beauty of the wood and branches. The intricate markings and spots and scars that are part of the tree's story.  When the leaves fall away we are reintroduced to the body, strength, and quiet wisdom of the tree.

But how can we rest when it feels like there is essential work to do?  I wonder, when is there not essential work to do?  Media and culture and humans create crises points just as mother nature does with her tsunamis, hurricanes, and expressive weather.  How do we balance a call to act and need to rest?
I pose questions, but the answers are yours to discover.  For me, I turn to the trees.
I find great comfort in talking to trees and inviting them to share with me what they have observed of the world. I have been taught to know them as wise elders, who have seen everything over centuries of presence and observation.  Nothing is new to them.  They've seen it all, and together they remain.  Yes, some no longer stand.  Their bark has gone back to the earth.  But can a tree ever die, if it's body becomes nourishment for the next?

The trees help me to see things differently.  To gain a long-range, wide perspective, and move beyond the limits of this human mind. They remind me of what stability looks like within the constant change of seasons and routine.  The trees point me back to the roots of my values, and allow me to move about while remaining connected to a practice.

Trees, linked and rooted together below the surface, are held by earth in her stable, steady hands.  They communicate in invisible ways, within their immediate community and other beings and creatures of the world.  The trees know that without rest we are not actually capable of sustaining the work of long-haul growth, transformation, and being.

I no longer have to live in crises.  I am able to show up, offer care, hold space, take risks, and also to rest and pause.  I can shout from the tree tops and I can silently sit at her roots.  The trees give me permission to hibernate for a an hour, a day, a week, or a season if that is what I need.  And they remind to get back up, go back out into the world and shine, sing, act, and persist within whatever struggles come my way.  The trees remind that as I hold space for the community, the community holds space for me.

I invite you to go outside and be with the trees that surround you, wherever you are, and tune into their process while wondering about your own. Use the senses to hear the crunch of leaves under foot, to touch the bark, smell the wood and leaves, and air. Ask them to share their wisdom with you, and still yourself long enough to listen.  Trees are slow communicators, and sometimes their messages take time to understand.
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