REDWOODS NATIONAL PARK
4 June 2018
A visit with a tree is much like a meeting with an old friend.
I knock on the door of the forest, singing a song of hello, greeting the plants and flowers, running my hands over bark, skin to skin, sometimes pausing under fallen branches - asking a silent permission to pass through this portal and join the continual dance of life, death and spirit in the realms of the dryads.
When I meet with a tree, I stop, and standing still, I put aside all thoughts of dinner and tomorrow’s plans…
and then I listen
… I listen for the whisper in the leaves above me, for the quiet wisdom held within the heart of this giant being. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, a voice speaks words through my fingers, a conversation made of feeling. It is a language that must be felt to be heard. Subtle, quiet, something intuitive and soft - these conversations could easily be missed if I did not give my time or attention.
Then, I will leave a gift : an offering, often a strand of tawny golden hair hung on a fern or nestled in the crook of a curled root. Sometimes I bring other gifts, tea leaves or a small rock from my gridding collection. I give thanks for all that has passed.
Sometimes stillness and silence can be even more adventurous than walking!
“They are not like trees, they are like spirits. The glens in which they grow are not like places, they are haunts - haunts of the centaurs or of the Gods.”
~ John Masefield
a yellow banana slug
a florescent sea anemone
barnacles and a green striped crab
a grazing deer
ripe orange salmonberries
ferns of all kinds
white, star-like marah oreganus flowers