“Trees purify the air; they also purify the mind . . . if you want to save your world, you must save the trees.” —The Trees of Endor in J.R.R. Tolkien’s book, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers,
Hidden under the rich soil is an enormous underpinning of roots; an intricate system that extends two to three times the radius of the crown. Deep roots anchor the tree; enabling it to dance without falter; to sway in unison with other trees in the unpredictable wind.
Weathered tree roots along a high-and-dry portion of the West Fork Bitterroot River
When we look to trees—learn from and emulate them—we discover the ancient key to tranquility. We’re reminded that we, too, have deep roots and are meant to branch out into the world.
And while life seems to move faster and faster each day, when we stand still like trees, remaining rooted to what sustains us; we remember to take pleasure in nature and hold dear all who live here.
Trees are my personal reminder that deep roots allow me to bend in a storm—to be flexible—while still reaching for the sky.
While Idaho is considered the “Gem State,” its capital — Boise — is known as the “City of Trees.” An unapologetic tree-hugger, I adore living in one of the historic preservation districts where trees are worked around, instead of cut down. Take this sidewalk for example:
Talk about forward thinking! From my perspective, this is planning extraordinaire. Where tree roots might potentially cause a sidewalk to buckle, they swerve around the base, giving the roots a wide and healthy berth.
Even where trees sit much further back from the sidewalk, they take root growth into consideration.
And so it is in life. With forethought, we too can offer healthy growing space to people, places, things, events, ideas, and opportunities.
Trees are high on the list of my favorite living creatures. Each day as I traverse back and forth to HolEssence—on bike, on foot, in car—I pass ginormous trees that have lived in this area for hundreds of years. Many of them are in the front yards of what had been the homes of railroad barons in days gone by.
In August we experienced several storms that blew through, stripping off roofs and leveling most everything in its path. Pictured below is a tree I photographed after the storm. It wasn’t yanked up by its roots, rather, it snapped—like a twig—in the gale force winds.
From the outside, the tree had appeared to be healthy. But I suspect it had been ill, as most trees—like people—have an inherent resilience that allows us to recover from things that push the envelope past the cutting edge, to the bleeding edge.
When was the last time you were stretched beyond your limit?
You’ve heard the age-old query: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
Not quite a mile as the crow flies from our home, there were plenty of people around to hear the sound of this tree as recent gale-force winds roared through our town. I expected to see branches down everywhere as I drove to HolEssence, but I was taken by surprise—and dismayed—to see that this beautiful old tree (twins sharing one trunk) had fallen victim to the whim of the churlish wind.
When was the last time the winds of life shivered your timbers?
Most of you know that my favorite things on this planet are trees. I love them! You can imagine, then, how tickled I was when the editor of Evolving Your Spirit magazine told me that she was going to print my article, “Dancing With Trees” in the Jul/Aug edition. Here is a LINK that will take you to the magazine. The article starts on page 4.
In that same vein, some time ago I wrote a poem, also titled “Dancing With Trees,” that I shared in the old Gaia platform. I have reprinted it here:
Laying next to a deeply furrowed, massive trunk
The earthy scent of bark beckons my fingers to caress
Marveling at the cloudless sky through a canopy of outstretched branches
I listen to the drowsy leaves whisper ancient secrets
Hidden beneath the dark rich soil, her deep roots embrace Gaia
Entrenched in what sustains her
A gentle reminder to stand tall in a raging storm
To sway in unison with the wind while reaching for the endless sky
I inhale deeply from the wealth of her life-sustaining breath
Arms open wide; she eagerly receives what I can no longer use
A primordial exchange
The rhythm of our breathing an exquisite dance
Her gnarled and veined hands reach out
Lending me quiet strength while listening with care
In the still silence of our tender communication she softly murmurs
Death is part of life; I must prepare
Come autumn, I will don my most brilliant cloak
Dazzling yellows and vivid reds that stir the soul
Like feathers falling, it will drop softly; pooling at my feet
With poise and dignity I will remain unveiled until spring
With a mother’s loving arms, she beckons in silent invitation
Resting in the crook of a strong limb, her branches enfold me
Sleep comes easy, knowing that through the night
I am dancing with trees
Where is your favorite tree located? What type of tree is it? What is it about that tree that sets it apart as your favorite?
With the death of my hard drive (yes, she’s still with the Geek Squad), I’ve had the unexpected opportunity to fall back in love with Mrs. K. — my Kindle. I don’t have one of the new fancy-schmancy Kindles. No, not me. I have the original model. And I’m smitten with her.
Now before any potential naysayers jump in, please let me say that I adore printed books. As do so many of us. But that very love has a negative impact on my first-and-foremost favorite things on this planet—trees.
As of September 6, 2008 the figure of 20 million trees was the common estimate for the number of trees cut down annually for the production of books sold in the United States alone. That figure doesn’t include the production of newspapers or magazines — just books.
No trees — none — are harmed when you read books on a Kindle or any other type of eReader.
The cost of a book on Kindle is at least half (if not less) than the price of a printed book. Because most of the classics have been in the public domain for so long, many of them are available for free, and there are a multitude of website that give away free books for the Kindle.
My Kindle weighs the same or less than a regular book and takes up the same amount of space, or less, all the while, carrying about a hundred books (depending on their length). Once it’s full I simply move them over to the “shelves” in my private Kindle “library.”
If I ever lose my Kindle, all of the books I’ve ever purchased are still mine (even if I haven’t moved them to my library yet).
If it’s ever stolen, with one quick phone call, my Kindle quickly becomes nothing more than a paperweight to the person who took it.
And yes, I can still lose myself in the “pages” of a Kindle, just like a real book, only better because I can adjust the font size bigger or smaller — depending on my need. The screen looks just like the pages in a print book. There’s no back light or glare. I can even “dog ear” a page if I want, but the Kindle automatically remembers my last location so it’s really not necessary.
By the way, I’m currently reading The Genie in Your Genes: Epigenetic Medicine and the New Biology of Intention by Dawson Church — I highly recommend it.
Without a doubt, trees are my favorite things. As so eloquently spoken by The Trees of Endor in J.R.R. Tolkien’s book, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, “Trees purify the air; they also purify the mind . . . if you want to save your world, you must save the trees.”
Hidden under the rich soil is an enormous underpinning of roots; an intricate system that extends two to three times the radius of the crown. Deep roots anchor the tree; enabling it to dance without falter; to sway in unison with other trees in the unpredictable wind. When we look to trees—learn from and emulate them—we discover the ancient key to tranquility. We’re reminded that we, too, have deep roots and are meant to branch out into the world. And while life seems to move faster and faster each day, when we stand still like trees, remaining rooted to what sustains us; we remember to take pleasure in nature and hold dear all who live here. Trees are my personal reminder that deep roots allow me to bend in a storm—to be flexible—while still reaching for the sky.
My favorite thing on the planet is trees. Next is laughter. I love to laugh! It’s a great antidote to stress. As a Holistic Health Practitioner, I can share this fact with certainty: of the 206 bones in the human body, the most important one is the funny bone.
We’ve all heard the saying that “Laughter is the best medicine.”It really is. Just like a spoonful of sugar, laughter is easy to take. Possessing the same positive impact as inspiration, love, generosity, tolerance and respect, laughter is one of the many characteristics of Divine Love—Spirit. Simply put, laughter is good for the soul.
By the way, if you take the time to listen, you can hear the trees laugh too …