The ritual of May Day has all but faded into the past. The surprise baskets of flowers and treats hung from doorknobs is an intriguing idea. At the end of April I got a surprise that wasn’t exactly a basket but was definitely a treat. I noticed that one branch of the lemon tree was dragging on the ground. On closer look, I could see it had partially split from the trunk. A dove shot out of the tree as I walked around it to take pictures. I slowed down and started looking for a nest. Midway between roots and crown, I spotted a well-built shallow saucer. Not wanting to disturb potential residents, I held up my phone and blindly took some pictures. When I looked at my screen I saw two small feathered shapes wedged together. It was clear from their feathers that they weren’t yet ready to fly.
The yard crew was informed that they couldn’t touch the tree until the birds were out of the nest. I have a perfect view of the nest out my window and have been keeping track of their progress. It’s astonishing how quickly their feathers changed in just five days. What was a mottled dark grey-brown is now a smooth slate grey, much like the adult doves.
It is an interesting mix of Fall and Winter here. The leaves are in full Fall mode, changing colors and drifting down to earth. Driving through neighborhoods, the lemon yellows and plum reds seem as common as Fall in Boston Common. It is very unusual to see this much color. Japanese maples (Acer palmatum) and Chinese pistaches are signaling the weather like never before. At the same time, snow clouds are cruising above the trees on their way north and east.
In Chinese medicine this time of year is Metal energy, a time of clearing out anything that no longer serves us. This can be material things or less tangible things like emotions. Watching leaves drifting peacefully off their branches is a visual lesson from nature in learning to let go.
It is a busy time of year but I savor the quiet mornings to look out at the frost-covered roofs and steam rising from the pool. In these still moments I see only that which is right in front of me. I am free from things I don’t need.
Today it is raining in the way I used to remember from the summer monsoons. Not the downpours following a crash of thunder, but a slow, steady rain that cools the hot desert air.
I’ve just returned from standing under the mulberry tree in the corner of my yard. Its branches had grown so long and heavy that they now touch the ground. Standing inside, it is a fort made of soft leaves and sturdy branches. All I can see is the screen of green surrounding me. Rain drops lightly patter against the leaves, a drumming that draws you in. Every third drop slips through the foliage umbrella, soaking through my shirt in a quarter-sized drop. After a week of 112 degree temperatures, the air is cool, sustaining, pleasant. My weather station says it is 85, a miracle in the desert.
I recently read Jane Goodall’s The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times. She lists four things that give her hope. One is the resilience of nature. I think about the giant sequoias in Yosemite National Park and how they have survived both droughts and wildfires. I imagine all they have witnessed, some for 2000 years.
Throughout the book Jane tells stories of how humans have worked together to make small changes that have an impact on their community. In watching the news, there are few stories of humans working together toward something positive. But watching the firefighters intently monitoring the sprinkler system and doing all they can to save the Grizzly Giant in the Mariposa Grove restores my faith in humanity.
I wish I could hear what these giants are saying about the tiny people weaving around their roots in an effort to save them. What is changing in their needles with all the smoke? Are their trunks already in the process of growing a new protective layer? With all the uncertainty in the world right now, I look to the trees for their endurance and strength.
Despite growing up in the desert (or maybe because of it), I have always felt a kinship with trees. The sound of wind in their branches, the shade they provide, their clear structure, the cooling shades of green, and earthy scents they release all fill my soul with peace. At least once a year I head to the mountains for tree time. It is essential to my happiness.
I started practicing Korean Breath Qigong Yoga to manage stress. Breath training is an essential part of this practice and promotes the natural balance of energy, with a warm belly and cool head. At a workshop this was likened to the energy balance of a tree: a tree gathers energy from the sun in its leaves and then sends this energy to its roots. When I heard the tree analogy, I knew I was in the right place for me. In my training I learned that the form of Qigong we practice unites heaven, earth, and humanity. I feel this balance most acutely when I am out in nature.
In Qigong training, tree posture is my favorite. This posture promotes a deep sense of peace in several ways. Pressing your palms together opens up your energy channels. Strengthening your legs is akin to strengthening the trunk of a tree since strength begins in your legs, much like the trunk of a tree. Breathing in through your lower belly, then breathing out to send this energy to your legs is the same as a tree sending nutrients to its roots. Feeling your feet firmly in contact with the ground literally grounds you, anchoring you to the present moment. In these moments, I often see clearly the next step in my path. Whenever I ask a question of the universe, the response is usually this: trees are the answer.
It is so peaceful and restorative to practice tree posture out in nature. In this posture, you are aware of the sunlight on your face, the characteristics of the air around you, the sound of the birds, the branches moving in a slight wind, and the smell of the trees and earth. For me, winter is my season of renewal. In the desert, hot temperatures last well into fall. When it is finally cool again (which seems like a miracle every year), I crave moments of quiet time to reconnect with the outdoors after being in an artificial environment for nearly six months.
Mini snowman I built on a log near Strawberry, AZ
My need for spiritual time in the cool quiet is at odds with a time of year that is stressful and hectic with preparation for the holidays. One year in mid-December I decided to take off for the forest. I abandoned my plans for the day and headed north to Strawberry, Arizona. I waffled on my decision all along the drive to Highway 87, but as soon as the mountains rounded into view with their snowy peaks I knew I made the right choice and I couldn’t stop smiling. I found a spot where families were sledding and building snowmen, and walked until I found a tree that spoke to me. I stood in front of this tree and stayed in tree posture for several minutes, taking in the cold air stinging my cheeks, the texture of snow beneath my shoes, the shift to a peaceful state of being. I gave thanks for this moment, then opened my eyes. I built a small snowman on a log before heading back to my car. On the drive home, I felt full of bright energy. The curves of the road matched the pace of the music as I sang along, feeling that all was right in the world.
I got certified to teach Breath Qigong Yoga with a vision to help veterans with PTSD. Tree posture is an essential component of class. Many veterans have compressed spines, and this posture helps open up channels along the back. In addition, it promotes a peaceful state of mind and I can sense when this shift happens. There is a complete stillness, akin to being in a forest. I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the opportunity to create this peaceful environment for others, inspired by trees.
Trees in Tree Posturenear Strawberry, AZ
Try tree posture the next time you are out in nature. Stand with your feet shoulder width apart and your feet pressed into the ground. You can also do this sitting in a chair, but keep your feet flat on the ground. Bend your knees as you are able. Place your palms pressed together in front of your heart, like in prayer. Relax your neck and shoulders but keep your chin level. Close your eyes. Breathe in slowly, expanding your belly, then breathe out slowly, sending all energy to your legs. Imagine you are a tree and your legs are the trunk of your tree. Continue this process for 2-3 minutes, focusing only on your breathing, no thought, no emotion. Just breathing, connecting with your true self and nature. You will be amazed at how calm you feel and empowered to take on any challenge.
(originally published on the Association of Nature and Forest Therapy blog July 2018)
