The Trees Talk to Me

The young trees on the land talk to me. 

As I crouch down, for a moment I feel their whispers of aliveness. I sense they feel me too. 

I’m in good wood company.

I respond with a smile, them, with a refreshing bouncy energy, as I free up space removing the smothering grasses at their feet.

Sometimes I wish I could peak under their dense soil skirt to see what’s happening down beneath with their symmetrical other half. I wonder who they’re talking to, who they’re connecting with through the grand underground mycelium telephone.  Who would have thought the modes of communications we created above ground have been happening all this time beneath our feet. 

Their leaves sparkle in their new spaciousness. 

We breathe together. We breathe each other. Our lungs, little trees inside our bodies..

It’s amazing to feel my aliveness meet theirs. 

They have so much to teach us about a sense of place. Imagine, to stay in one place, and eat, drink, breathe, chat, grow, reproduce, and all in still silence. Remarkable. 

Imagine, being responsible for one of the most important life-giving processes making Earth alive. Photosynthesis. Magic. Thank you for catching the sun for everyone. 

I hope you get to know an 1000 year old tree. 

In Canada, on the West Coast, I spent my days teaching with 1000+ year old giants. 

They were the teachers. We just had to listen. The other way to listen though, trees don’t speak in words.

To be truly humbled, is to be with a being who has lived for over ten centuries and doesn’t boast a word.

Have you met a tree that brought you to your knees?