I recently found a collection of nature essays by Thomas Merton called When the Trees Say Nothing: Writings on Nature, edited by Kathleen Deignan. The title really caught my attention. How can that be, I asked? The trees talk to me every day. I cannot imagine a world when they say nothing, one where we no longer breathe together.
It is well documented scientifically that trees heal one another and talk to one another. But how do they heal us and talk to us without human words? Many of us are aware of the healing we receive just from walking in the woods. What messages might we also receive? My days begin as I open my office window and Gert, my cat, and I look out at our maple. It was a gift from my eco-spirituality mentor, Marion, who taught me so much about trees.
Are the branches sunny and bright or do the leaves drip with rain tears? Do they droop sadly amid hazy, gray skies clouded by smoke from their burning kin out west? Are they silently weighed down by inches of winter’s snow? More than predictors of weather, they send me messages of their abilities to withstand all types of weather. Now the leaves flutter and twirl in a happy dance and a smile crosses my face. I know I can change my attitude just as quickly and face the troubling world with joy.
Now as I look toward the woods, I see a small seedling growing forth out of the hollow trunk of that giant oak who was silenced by the derecho. The small one is being fed by ancient roots and supported by other trees nearby. It tells me to remember the life of my elders and all they have contributed to make me the woman I am today … my roots also run deep, balance and nourish me.
Now I see the face of a forest elf in one of the trees in the woods. Her nose is decorated with beautiful green ivy and the silly grin, even with broken limbs reaching for the sky, speaks to me of bravery in challenging times. I hear her say, “Look up and smile! Lift up your arms in the delight of another day!”
See the leaves begin to change color in the autumn of their lives? They tell me that change can be beautiful as I move through MY life’s changing seasons.
Hear the wind as it whispers through the branches? I hear it say, “Feel my strength, learn from me, let me guide you on your journey, Daughter of the forest.”
Parker Palmer says in On the Brink of Everything, “It is not tranquility alone that makes this wilderness a place of healing for me. It’s the patient, resourceful, resilient way nature heals itself, showing me what it takes to heal my own wounds so I can be in the world as a wounded healer.” And so it is … Aho.
—Janith Shoning-Griffith
