That’s how I felt this morning walking along Ridge Road through Penguin Picnic Field – “oh, to be like a tree”. There was something so reflective about walking in the early morning fog that had me notice the trees and their solid presence. With the fog enveloping us I was more attuned to my body’s sensations, aware of the shift that comes with the transition from summer’s outward flowing energy to the inner reflective cocooning that comes with fall and winter. The trees do this turning of the season so gracefully; I’m not certain that I do. I was grateful that I had decided to go to the Gats this morning even though it was raining when I left home to be reminded of this lesson.
I was also reminded this morning of a poem by Carrie Newcomer:
To Be Like A Tree
See how the trees
Reach up and outward
As if their entire existence
Were an elegant gesture of prayer.
See how they welcome the breath of spirit,
In all its visible and invisible forms.
See how the roots reach downward and out,
Embracing the physical,
The body and bones
Of its soul of earth and stone,
Allowing half its life to be sheltered
in the most quiet and secret places.
Oh, if I could be more like a tree on this Sunday morning,
To feel the breath of invisible spirit
Touch me as tenderly as a kiss on the forehead.
If I could courageously and confidently
Dig down into the dark
Where the ground water runs deep,
Where shelter and sanctuary
Can be had and held.
Ah, to be like a tree
With all its bent and unbent places,
A whole and holy thing
From its topmost twigs
To the deepest taproot
To all the good and graceful
Spaces between.
