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A Conversation of Deeper Proportions

I recently read a review of a book: All We Can Save by Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, that sounded terrific. I looked up the book and was captivated. It is an entire book written by sharply intelligent, and a thoughtful nebula of women who are at the forefront of the climate movement. The essays, articles, collections, and poems are realistic, positive, and productive. One story I read (I take in a story or two a day to let it settle in), was about trees and the underworld community that exists. It reminded me of a story I had written in an earlier book I published at the very beginning of the pandemic.

A Conversation of Deeper Proportions
I have read that trees communicate with each other. Years ago, I studied the practice of Silva Mind Control and I was also immersing myself into Shamanic studies. At different points in both studies, I was told to place my hands on the body (trunk) of a tree. I was instructed to quiet myself, totally, Outside and within. I was told to listen. To wait and sense what came through. I remember standing in front of a big, beautiful old grandfather tree. I did as I was told. With eyes closed, I listened to what the tree told me. I started to enter a place of shared intelligence with the tree. I felt at peace. In a place of agreement. After a while, how long I cannot say, I realized multiple thoughts and reflections were flowing into me. It was awesome, unbelievable. That was long ago. This story begins on a walk weeks ago. It had been a long time since I listened to the trees in an intimate way. Living in a world of the ongoing isolation of COVID precautions, I haven’t been able to see anyone close up, to touch or hold a hand, to hug another human being. My life of talking and listening currently, as for many of us, is to share stories and thoughts in a Zoom room. I enjoy isolation more than most, but I get incredibly lonely some days. I made this walk’s intention to initiate an intimate conversation with a tree. As I walked with a curiosity, I searched for some tree to signal me. I was stunned by the lack of life energy all around. Then I found a large tree beckoning me, again and yet again, as I walked by it. “Come to me,” the tree spoke. Or this is how I interpreted it. I walked over, spoke a blessing, then I placed my palms on its trunk. I began to breathe more deeply. To relax. I waited for what was to come. Words do not quite do the trick in this type of union. Let me with you the best I can as I write this. The tree was shimmering with joy to talk with me. The Tree was explaining that I shouldn’t worry so much about what appearances seem to be with regard to the trees everywhere. That there is a remarkable underground network of communication where chemicals and signals are sent to other trees through their root system. Different species of trees are interconnected through a spectacular root system. This dynamic system spans all over the world. The Tree went on to explain that there is much death and damage being done above the ground. That because of the root system all over the world, there will never be annihilation to the trees. I can’t tell you how long the tree spoke to me. Many trees seem asleep energetically. This is because of the approaching winter when they go deeply within. Many trees appear to be dying and they are, but only in appearance. Their life energy is going into this vast, vibrant root system to continue the future lineage. That this whole underground network will rise, once again, to blanket the earth with unimaginable species. I was amazed at the brilliance of what has been going on for ages. When our time was ending, I thanked the Tree and walked on. My walk was more grounded. My steps lighter. I looked around me with an inner sight. A different, softer lens. As Abraham Maslow said, and I paraphrase here, “the sacred is in the ordinary…” When I walk now, I know that appearances are just that. Below the surface of what I see is a world within itself. Strong and alive. Now I look deeper and listen. I walk on sacred ground.

Just so you know, I am not getting paid for mentioning Ayana’s book.

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