“Trees are sanctuaries who ever knows how to speak to them…and listen to them can learn the truth.” Herman Hesse
I grew up in the Pacific Northwest with abundant tall trees all around. I spent many hours climbing them, safe from older neighbor kids and my parents’ endless arguments. In childhood bliss, I swung from their branches and gorged on abundant plums, pears, cherries and apples. The giants were so accommodating, they felt like friends. I even talked to them, confiding my troubles. With a tattered paperback book, I sat in them for hours with an exquisite feeling of complete peace and safety. They were so plentiful and stable that I took them for granted.
As an adult, I walk outdoors everyday, communing with my favorite trees. I find their colors, shapes and movement in the wind endlessly intriguing, their beauty a gift. As I spend time with them, I think about my daily issues. When I return home, my problems have lessened and some are resolved. My body tingles with energy and I feel much better than when I left, as if I received tree-blessings.
A friend is one with whom I feel safe and happy, who feeds me and helps me find solutions, who shares a common life cycle. In art, I try to capture a plants’ delicate balance, volume, hue and their invisible life force with thousands of tiny ink lines. Drawing them is a meditative experience and I feel closer to them. Trees are my friends who have expanded my ability to love.
When some of them have been injured or uprooted during storms, I mourned. A few trees from my childhood have passed away from old age, 80 to 100 years old. Family and neighbors gathered around the tree to celebrate its life and express our joy and gratitude for all the tree gave us. We have recorded their awe-inspiring crashes with cameras and videos. I’ve learned not to take my arborous pals for granted. They, like me, have a finite time on earth. My appreciation for them has continued to deepen.
