In Cree, trees are ‘who’ not ‘what’.
– Tomson Highway
We are profoundly attached to trees. We were arboreal creatures, after all. We also look like trees – sturdy layered spine/trunk, deeply earthing toe/roots, long demonstrative arm/branches, dexterous nimble finger/twigs, blooming flower faces.
Trees support, nourish, oxygenate and hydrate. They sing, soothe, shelter and hide. They grant focus, speak of longevity and balance the landscape. Trees symbolize evolution, potential, self-renewal and creativity. They appear dead and as if by miracle, come vibrantly alive. They are bridges from the unplumbed crystalline centre of the earth to the infinite heavenly realms, the boundless abode of the gods.
Trees are expressions of the First Noble Truth of Buddhism, that suffering is inescapable, yet their spiritual essence is life, love, endurance, hope, community, understanding and enlightenment.
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
– Mary Oliver
Cover me with Heaven’s blue
And let me dream a dream or two
Oh, sing me to sleep
Lullaby of the leaves…
– Young/Petkere