As a young extroverted girl, I was always looking for playmates.
As other little humans weren’t about, I turned to those who were waiting in the forests and the fields around the house. I would sing my original songs to the trees, act out my performances to our sheep, play with the milk pods that made fairy hair in the autumn when they split open, and chat with the moss that covered the flat rocks as I wrote my poetry.
And because I was a rather mercurial child, when I was sad and lonely, I learned to turn to the trees. They had a way of standing tall and listening. They were always patient and kind. I left every conversation feeling loved.
I’ve never forgotten the unconditional love of trees. They remain a secret source of mothering when my heart needs to be reminded of good things.
So I decided on my morning walk with my granddaughter to introduce her to the trees by sharing a ritual I have taken with me around the world.
Reverently, we approached an ancient maple whose crown was autumn-red, we wrapped our arms as far as they would go, leaned in, and whispered …
“I love you tree.”
“Now sweet girl, press your ear against her warm bark and listen carefully” I guided.
“Magic will happen…
Can you hear anything? …
Did you hear her whisper I love you too?”
In the way that only little ones can, she nodded with complete understanding and over the course of our walk, stopped and heard the love of two more trees. Imagine if she lives her life trusting that when she needs to lean into love, her environment is there, waiting to give it to her. Imagine living knowing the magic of trees.
As I travel the world, I am delighted to exchange love messages with everything around me. Trees, sunsets, flowers, chipmunks.
I’ve even tried this ritual, with considerable care, with a big ol’ cactus.
My ritual has become automatic, I would no sooner walk into your house without saying hello than I would walk by a trunk and not lay my hand on her and feel both loving and loved.
I am held in awe every time, as I glimpse into something greater than myself. This is the ritual that creates for me a sense of connection and place. It grounds me into “home” and reminds me that I am the daughter of many.
So on this Canadian Thanksgiving, I surrender in gratitude to the forests and the powerful innocence of a toddler to remind me of magic and belonging.
If you love trees like I do, you’ll love The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohllenben.
P.S. Connecting with nature is a key component in all of our retreats. Belonging and community are integral parts of living with a fuller sense of possibility.
Tania