The Gift of Trees
Trees Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
All week, the pristine quiet of my new foothill home has been disrupted by the roar of chainsaws, the hacking of axes, the deep bass drone of earth movers and trucks and the all too distinct crack and thud of a tree going down.
I would estimate more than 50 trees have come down so far. That first day, I could feel the shock of the trees, the earth, the birds. I reassured the trees on my property that the chainsaws would not be coming for them. I spent the day feeling completely rattled. A hawk flew overhead screeching as one tree was being cut. Was its nest high up there in the branches? I saw the same hawk fly down to the ground from a low limb the next day. Were there young ones to feed that now found their home on the ground? I don’t know. I only wonder.
My heart hurt and I cried. I also heard an internal voice chastise me saying “Where do you think the lumber for this house and this deck came from?” I also found myself curious about the process of cutting trees and furious about the destruction of the landscape to pull the logs out.
As I felt into all of my reactions, I came to understand (among many other insights) that what bothers me most is (and this is an assumption) that they have not been honored. They were not taken down in a sacred manner. No one offered their prayer or blessing or gratitude.
As I said, that is an assumption. So, it all comes back to me. Have I offered my prayer, blessing or gratitude? I spent that first evening in my sacred space doing just that. It created peace in my spirit and gave my heart a bit of rest. I am reminded to continue the practice of walking in the Beauty Way, honoring all of life. It’s so easy to forget.
The felling continues. As I write, I hear the drone of the tree mover with the big pincers creating roadways through the forest and dragging felled trees to waiting trucks.
This leads me to my invitation to join me in a healing ceremony, of sorts.
I invite you to join me in expressing gratitude to trees.
Leave a comment with your words or write a blog post on the subject and post the link in the comments section below. In this way, we can practice some earth medicine and send energetic healing to trees being felled everywhere. In addition, if you feel so moved, speak your gratitude directly to a tree today.
I will start:
Thank you to the trees.
Thank you for your beauty, shade, blossoms, shelter.
Thank you for offering yourselves to become my home, furnishings, books, bags, paper.
Thank you for giving me your limbs for warm fires on chilly evenings.
Thank you for your medicine and the wisdom you always convey to me when I seek your counsel.
Thank you for harboring birds and squirrels.
Thank you for my guitar, violin, piano and the sweet songs that come from them.
Thank you for your sweet aromas, your waving branches in the breeze, your reminder to remain grounded.
Thank you for your teachings, sometimes painful, through the taking out of power for a day or two, or falling through a roof of a house or car.
Thank you to the giants for living so long as to remind us of timelessness.
Thank you for reaching high and pointing the way to the stars and that beautiful silhouette you create encircling me as I stand in a clearing stargazing.
Thank you for peace laurels, Christmas trees, wreathes and garlands.
Thank you for opening my heart and reminding me of the sacredness of all life.
Will you join me? Thank you for posting your gratitude for trees in the comments below (click on “comments” the last word of this post, below the likes and tags)
Copyright © March 2013 Kathy J Loh, All Rights Reserved