Communing With Trees

“In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still beautiful.”
— Alice Walker

I love to journal outside in the morning. This morning, I grabbed my notebook, pen, and water bottle and went to sit among the trees in my mother's backyard. Before writing I took a moment to gaze upon the pine tree. Then I focused on the oak tree steps away. I've always been close to trees. Some of my fondest memories are of climbing the oak tree near my school bus stop in elementary school. The huge branches were my sanctuary, reading nook, and playhouse. I'd like to climb trees again.

The trees that I communed with this morning were not climbing trees but they were no less amazing. They were beautiful. I gently rubbed my hand along the pine's trunk, slowly tracing the bark's segments with my fingers. This was not the smooth trunk of a sapling. This tree was mature. She had witnessed some things. And weathered some storms. This tree had stories to tell. And I love stories.

I stood in close connection with the tree and was overcome with emotions that I couldn't quite name. I wanted to write about it. But something was telling me to just feel. The tree told me. Or Spirit moving through the tree.

I sometimes try to process experiences before I've actually finished experiencing them. I fear that I will forget an important lesson. But this morning, the only lesson I needed to learn was to slow down and feel. I protested a bit. I thought I needed to document the moment. That's what we do these days. Snap a picture. Post it on social media. Say something witty in the captions. All in real time. We can't chance forgetting any moments of our lives.

This morning, internally I heard this in rebuttal: "You don't write down all your conversations with your grandmother. Do you forget her?"

Of course, I don't forget my grandmother. I don't need a transcript of our conversations. Our shared memories and the lessons she's bestowed are in our relationship. In our continued intimacy. In our decades of love.

I was being reminded that such communion is not limited to humans.

I don't know how long I connected with the tree before I sat down to write. There's no time stamp or screenshot. I do know that I emerged with a full heart; grateful to build community with the trees.

Categories: : Wonder