Giving Thanks to the Trees
May 12th, 2016
By Michael McMillan
Thank you trees,
Thank you for the air we breathe, the homes we live in, the fires that keep us warm.
Thank you for the endless creativity you offer in your diversity and thank you for the continuous inspiration.
Thank you for the homes you provide for the animals.
Thank you for teaching us how to reach for the stars while staying true to our roots.
Thank you for teaching us balance.
Thank you for teaching us how to climb, swing, and dangle, thank you for all the good times we’ve shared.
Home, something many of us spend our whole lives looking for. For so long, many of our homes have come from trees. Their tough, yet flexible cambium layers are the perfect material for constructing homes. The many places I have called “home” were really trees of many forms. Now as I walk the Earth in my life with the intention to be more at “home” anywhere I go, I look for connection with the trees. How can I find home wherever I go? Through making deep connections with the living landscape.
The aboriginal people of Australia, through culture have evolved a profound meaning of home. I am reading a book called If This is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories? Finding Common Ground, by J. Edward Chamberlin, an exceptional study on how stories determine the way a culture connects to land and home. The author quotes the anthropologist W.E.H. Stanner, who explains that “no English words are good enough to give a sense of the links between an aboriginal group and its homeland,”. Stanner continues;
Our word ‘home’, warm and suggestive though it be, does not match the aboriginal word that may mean “camp,” “hearth,” “country,” “everlasting home,” “totem place,” “life source,” “spirit center,” and much else all in one. Our word “land” is too spare and meager. We can scarcely use it except with economic overtones unless we happen to be poets. The aboriginal would speak of “earth” and use the word in a richly symbolic way to mean his “shoulder” or his “side.” I have seen an aboriginal embrace the earth he walked on.
We are one with the Earth, the land, our home. At least this perspective is still upheld by some people and has stayed alive, but in mainstream culture in the United States has reentered the contemporary narrative, but unfortunately has been dismissed as an unnecessary “radical” and “hippie” culture. However, I am grateful for the many people whether called “liberal” or “hippies”, alongside “conservatives” who find home in nature. There is much more than labels within our connection to our mother.
Part of the great creation, the ancient ones we live and walk amidst, I like to think of as the elders, the trees. Trees are an almost surreal expression of water, soils, air and sunlight, combined with infinite mixtures of microbial cultures and wildlife communities. So many cultures have stories of great trees, grandmother trees who have their own great stories to tell. While travelling in Nicaragua, I was lucky enough to visit La Reserva Indio Maiz, an enormous biological reserve where the Ceiba tree lives. The Ceiba was believed to be where the souls of the dead ascended to the heavens. Walking through the dense, humid rain forest we approached the long outstretching buttressed roots supporting the Ceiba. Looking skyward my neck started to hurt as the top of the Ceiba tree seemed to disappear, I was unable to distinguish where the tree ended and the sky began, a miracle to my eyes. One of the greatest trees I have ever met, supporting more life than I can fathom.
Do you have a favorite tree? Or maybe you remember a tree you climbed when you were a child? I remember the tree in the yard outside of the house where I grew up, a cottonwood. It was a spectacular climbing tree, low hanging branches to lift your self up onto the main trunk and climb on the ladder like branches higher and higher. It was the biggest tree on the block my Dad would say. Yes, we had some front yard tree pride. Until that cottonwood was struck by lightning. During that thunderstorm, I remember hearing a boom so loud my belly shook, the whole house shook. The next day we went outside to witness the aftermath. The lightning strike scarred the tree, but in a magnificent way. From the striking point, the scar flowed down and around the tree in a spiral to the Earth, following the water from sky to ground. It tore the low hanging branch right off the tree. What was once a great climbing tree became the giant scarred cottonwood, a legendary tree in my life, and a deep connection to my home.
Like the cottonwood, every place I have lived there has been at least one particular tree that stood out to me, and made me feel at home. When I went to college I remember visiting the campus for the first time and meeting the “champion” trees in the arboretum. The campus guards would always get pissed at us for climbing them, but we did it anyway, how could we resist? A legendary tree, that was definitely not as easy climb up to the canopy, any Regis University goer would recognize, the giant weeping American Elm. This trees branches are so big they stretched up about 40 ft and then back down to the Earth, creating a hidden space underneath the canopy. This was a renown make-out spot for all the infatuated freshman to hide under, and those people who didn’t have anywhere else to drink or smoke before heading to a party. A tree that brought so many people together deserves some recognition. Its protective canopy was so inviting to sit under for a lecture on philosophy, an afternoon nap, or climbing session. Another legendary, and rare tree.
The Grandmother tree as I call her, is the ancient Douglas Fir who lives beside the White House at Hidden Villa where I now call home. She has seen many things come and go, I am sure. And as a tree, I am sure she understands/experiences things, like time, in a very unique way. I am guessing she is around 400 years old, perhaps more. If only she could write , I am sure her story would be glorious. As just a little tree, the native Ohlone people may have walked around her, long before the Europeans arrived. She makes me feel connected to the past, to the people of this place, and the animals. She gives homes and food to so many, one of which is a family of Great Horned Owls.
I call you to reflect on the trees that have enriched your life. Giving thanks to the trees of the Earth for helping us cultivate homes and a meaning of home.
Closing my eyes, I kneel down and listen to the four directions. I let my ears wander to the farthest stretches of the East, South, West and North, listening for the quietest sound.
With the Ears of a Deer, Eyes of an Owl, Nose of a Bear, Skin of a Baby, and a Taste for Nature, let your senses invigorate you with love and joy.
