We are trees.
Yes, all of us.
Living season to season, gaining nourishment from the soil.
Air our very life breath.
Yes, we are trees.
Like branches, our arms reach out wide in ecstatic embrace of the splendor of this earth.
Like roots, we ground ourselves in what has meaning, a sense of stability.
Our torsos are the trunks,
Our blood¾the xylem and phloem that course and flow.
Skin, bark.
Leaves: hands that gather what is outside of us to our insides.
Winter’s barren limbs mirror to us the deaths and challenges, the losses and griefs,
the conflicts and mortal nature of our lives. But these same stalwart limbs remind
us of our strength, our ability to stand even in the bitter cold moments of
adversity.
Spring opens us to the beautiful suppleness, the durability through those torrents
that returns us to ourselves. We blossom in thickly-petaled white flowers and
with our branch-arms spread wide, we create a haven of beauty for all who rest
underneath us. We flow sweet sugar through our veins in spring.
In summer we extend ourselves to bear for those respite-seekers the heat, placing
ourselves between sun and dirt so that shade is formed, mediators
between the sun’s heat and the humans who tromp in grasses near where we stand. Our leaves darken, reminding us that though we flourish now, we will soon
transition to a different state of being.
Autumn is our season to blaze: crimson and gold swatches, so fire-like. Fall colors are
the adornments we wear to celebrate the seasons. And we bear the
winds, filtering them through our singing leaves and limbs, so that all below us are spared the brunt and force of it all.
Thick hides, thick skin, the ability to stand tall no matter what adversity blows our way.
We are cornerstones of nonhuman communities and of the peopled places as well.
We drip in the rain, we become statues in the icy snows, we sway to springtime’s revelry
of bud to blossom to leaf. We hear whispers of romance and children’s giggles as summer moves forward to grace us with long days of luscious light.
We are bristlecone¾wide, stalwart¾ancient ones hidden in secret coves in the obscure
mountainways of California.
We are elms, oaks. And maples.
We are teak and banana trees from the tropics;
We are the kapok of Africa, the yew of Europe, the bamboo of Asia, eucalyptus of Australia, the rubber tree of South America;
And we are the fossilized impressions of possible-trees from early Triassic times in
Antarctica.
Blessed are we, we trees, we lover of trees, we: the community of humans celebrating
Arbor Day.
For we feel in trees the resonance of ourselves, the mirror that reminds us how we are rooted and strong, vulnerable in the face of change, resilient always¾especially
when we remember our inextricable interconnection with trees, with all
nonhuman living beings.
When we re-member this connection, we re-member our own seasons and splendor.
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| HAPPY ARBOR DAY 2018! |
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2018 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
