When I walked by this tree the other day, it seemed to say, fingers crossed. You know, like make a wish. I took it as a good omen - solidarity from the trees in the midst of a pandemic.
Speaking of the word pandemic, it comes from pan, to mean all inclusive, and demos, to mean across the population. Perhaps instead of describing virus alone, this word makes other allusions - pertaining to a time of inclusion, connection across humanity, and union with Nature.
This wouldn't be the first time I've received messages from Mother Earth. She's the purest place to listen; her voice untouched by societal memes.
I'm comforted by that which remains undeterred by these global events - all the natural, lunar, and seasonal cycles which roll on and on and on with the wheel of the year, the turning of the cosmos. There are stories outside the human one. But in truth, they're our stories too.
Follow me.
Take a glimpse.
Remember...
A male Cardinal still sits atop his lofty perch, boasting about his bright red coat, his singing abilities , his spacious territory. Like springtime after springtime after springtime, the birds sing on with gusto.
First butterflies of the season spiral like confetti. A pair of Eastern Commas swirls about, punctuating the air between wingbeats. One certain patch of sun draws them in, where they sit like open books, warming their pages on the leafy forest floor.
One lone chipmunk comes out of hiding, cheeks full, feet frozen, sizing me up. We have a little staring contest. My camera is the first one to blink which breaks the spell. He scurries off.
I walk past the most luxurious beaver lodge - a five star hotel for floating, furry ones. The beaver is a staunch reminder of determination, focus, resourcefulness and tenacity! May we all have just an ounce of that drive. As I marvel at the craftsmanship, one of the residents floats lazily by, as if to say, hey, I deserve a break too! Touché my friend, touché.
After reveling in one tree-based masterpiece, I discover yet another. A massive and mighty tree lays fallen from woods to water in a perfect, solid bridge. Of course, I veer off my path and follow a narrow one straight up to it. There might as well be a welcome mat. The exposed roots are shaped like steps for me to climb. There's not one wiggle or wobble as I trust the tree with my full weight. Out over the water I climb, until I'm nestled right inside the horizontal trunk. This is the perfect perch to watch the ducks and listen for the rattle of the royal Kingfisher. It's moments like these the phrase returns to me, there is no moment more important than this one. There's an unmatched peace that comes from sitting against, upon, or inside a tree. My face and muscles relax, disrobing. It's an unmasking of everything that's been placed upon me, and I am home.
When I finally decide to move, I kiss the tree and thank it.
Around the next bend is a dancing crane, a preening crane, a stately Sandhill Crane. With a face adorned in carnelian and ruby, and wings tinted like marsh grasses, I know I'm witnessing divinity, right here in this moment.
There are so many stories circling. Stories of fear, boredom, hope, altruism, greed, power, sickness, panic, Love, connection, distance, uncertainty, possibility, and change. So many human stories. But there is one story that's constant, not so much apart form us as it is a part of us - the story told by Nature. Although new every day, in some ways, it never changes.
And that, my friends, is worth embracing.
