Feeling for the Trees

ImageI feel for the trees. A huge (120-150 foot) eucalyptus tree that lived for over one hundred years next to the Victorian house at 14th and Lakeside in Oakland blew down in the big windstorm we had about a month ago.

At Daré (Daré is a Shona word for Council and is a once-a-month gathering in Oakland open to everyone and dedicated to healing and peacemaking) held two weeks ago, someone spoke of the downed Eucalyptus tree that he had used as an anchor point when he jogged around Lake Merritt. To see it on the ground had stunned him. Walking amongst its downed branches, he could see beauty that had been too high for his eyes before—the patterns in the bark, the colors of the leaves. ImageSo much beauty on this earth takes place outside of our ability to perceive it. And yet, how often do we really look at what we are capable of seeing. We move so fast.

When a friend and I went to pay homage to the valiant tree last week, a feeling of immense vulnerability swept over me. That something so large and seemingly invincible could crash down that way. It could have taken some humans or their structures with it, but instead it fell onto a large magnolia tree (it is yet to be seen if that tree will survive) but not onto the road or the structures that stand nearby. It lay there, immense, broken, with its root ball exposed, its lifeblood, its lifetime of stories laid bare for all who cared to listen. We climbed down into the hole left by those roots and could see a rottenness at the core that must have contributed to the fall. Image

The tree seemed to have been perched on a rock (or at least very hard clay) at the middle of where it had stood. Now we could run our hands over exposed roots, intertwine them with our fingers and our minds. Was it the drought that caused this to happen? And how many more will fall before it is over? How many will they take with them? How much unseen suffering is happening right now to the trees?Image

Trees are a huge part of the respiratory system of our planet, taking in our carbon dioxide and through photosynthesis converting it into nutrients and oxygen so that some kind of balance of in-breath and out-breath can be maintained. Our future is caught up in the web of well being of trees. There was a time in most cultures when humans worshiped trees as sacred bridges between earth and sky. Trees are living beings which have the capacity to slow us down, to allow us to see inside of time as they span centuries as guardians of place. They provide constancy when so much is changing around us. And yet maybe that takes too much for granted as they, too, are vulnerable to disease, old age and drought.Image

Poet Morton Felix who passed away almost two years ago wrote these lines.

“This evergreen chill

spirals through lungs shaped like leaves

breathing its breath

upon being’s instrument.”

                                      From a poem entitled Autumn by Morton Felix

 

Being’s instrument. Isn’t that what we are as we live to breath (instead of breathing to live), fully inhabiting this instrument that is us? This breath, kept in a place of honor and primacy, connects us to all beings who live now, who have ever lived and those who are yet to come. And it places us directly at the roots of our fellow travelers, the trees, as they work to keep this planet in balance. We must not be cavalier with their lives—each and every one is a precious being, as is each and every human. How can we honor them, tend them, learn to understand their sacred language (see the book by A. T. Mann: The Sacred Language of Trees)?

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tree altar. (credit: Nicki Koethner)

 

In this new year, maybe we can all consciously notice the trees in our neighborhood and in our travels, spend extra time getting to know and appreciate them, breathe with them, talk to them and most of all, listen.

 

 

 

 

They Can’t Take That Away From Me

If you’ve been reading these blogs, you know that I am reporting on the trip my friend Viviane and I took to visit National Parks and to see our great friend Connie on her 75th birthday. Connie and I go way back (more than thirty years). She was the co-founder of our non-profit organization called Art Between Us. But even before that, I never would have finished my first book The Emperor Has a Body without the discussions she and I had every Friday night for years.BookCoverSm We would meet and just talk, some gossip but mostly talking about ideas and how to make the world a better place. Since she moved to Albuquerque some 14 years ago, I have never found a replacement for that deep connection that she and I had. Art Between Us, The Spiral, Explorations in the Between and ensuing Spiral Gatherings which still continue, were amazing accomplishments that would not have materialized without her.SpiralCover Since Viviane is a major player in the Spiral Gatherings, it was fitting that she and I make it to pay homage to Connie on her 75th birthday.

The last installment of this blog brought us through Death Valley and to Tecopa Hot Springs. Next came a long tedious drive through Arizona to Holbrook, Arizona, near the New Mexico border.nat'l parks trip 9-13 (67)

The one happening worth reporting that day was when we stopped at a Rest Area. Outside the bathrooms, a Native American woman was displaying her stunning jewelry. On our way out, we looked at her wares and struck up a conversation. She lived on a reservation not far from there. We decided to buy Connie a necklace with a heart within a heart that had turquoise decoration but was made mainly of hematite; it was colorful and appealed to both of us. Before we had finished our transaction, a man flashed a sign to our seller that the cops were coming. Before we could complete our transaction, she grabbed up her stuff and ran into the restroom where we followed her. Evidently it is against the law to sell your wares that way at a rest stop. We sympathized with the woman, completed our transaction and left, wishing her well, having been witnesses to that harassment.

After passing a horribly stinky coal plant not too far from our destination, we arrived in Holbrook, Arizona to stay at a motel there. We reveled in the bath tub and re-charged all of our various electronic equipment. I couldn’t find my phone charger so had to keep the phone off the whole trip. My mother had had surgery the day we left so I was worrying about that on and off throughout the trip, calling for updates occasionally and just generally feeling too far away to be of any use.

The next morning we had a long conversation with the clerk at the motel while we were eating the breakfast they provided. He was an artist and filmmaker just working there to make ends meet. He told us of his plans to make documentaries and narrative films. Loved the title of his production company, Refrigerator Door Productions. He seemed to get in trouble with his bosses for not getting his work done properly. We slipped out so that he could concentrate on the business at hand.

We met Connie and her friend Karin in Grants, NM on September 28th, Connie’s seventy-fifth birthday between 11:30 and noon. Our plan was to eat lunch and then drive to Chaco Canyon. However, since the region had experienced 10 hours of rain a couple days before, the main roads were washed out and we would have had to go a long way around on bad roads to get there. Connie was afraid of the bumpiness of the drive and opted to just stay around Grants and the lovely hotel and relax. We had a nice lunch and then took a swim in the hotel’s indoor pool and a soak in their hot tub—we had it to ourselves.

For dinner, the hotel recommended a place they called the Bistro and we went in search of it. However, we drove by where we thought it was three times and could see nothing resembling the Bistro. We asked some people and finally found the restaurant which was actually called La Bella Vida. We were charmed the minute we entered the colorful and joyful place.

Every surface that could be painted, was painted in a naïve style. We were all dressed colorfully as well so we fit right in. Turned out that the restaurant has only been in business for one month and the owners, a couple, were there and available to speak with us about how the restaurant came to be. The site had been a restaurant before but had been unoccupied for seven years. The wife was the painter of the tables and pictures hanging on the wall and in the restrooms. They had a Navajo cook who was from the Acoma people nearby. He also came out and gave us his story about having learned Italian cooking and then going to Italy and staying with a family there to complete his studies. When he returned, he found that he could not work at say, an Olive Garden, because his creativity would be crushed. So this small place near his birthplace was perfect to allow his creativity to blossom. He began work at 7:00 am making the soups (the Minestone was fabulous) and was there when we left at about 8:30 pm. Our meals of eggplant parmesan and fettuccine were first rate. And they whole staff came out to sing happy birthday to Connie as she ate her gratis cannoli. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

nat'l parks trip 9-13 (70)We returned to the hotel and continued the celebration making a collaborative birthday card, having Tarot readings from Connie. Viviane and I then sang Connie our song based on the George Gershwin song, They Can’t Take That Away From Me with a rhythmic bridge that introduced the idea that if she thinks she’s old, she needs to just think of the bristlecone pines.

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She’s a Julep                                             September 28th, 2013

The way she throws down words

The way they fly like birds

The way she reaches our hearts

Chorus:

Oh, you can’t take that away from her

No, you can’t take that away from her

The way her eyes mesmerize

The way she swims with words

The way she sweeps us on our feet

Chorus

The way she southerns us up

She’s a julep with a sprig of mint

We have a thirst for her

Chorus:

…her away from us

…her away from us

The way she cat…alyzes

The way she conjures the muse

May she linger in lavender

Chorus:

…From her

…From her

2x Bristlecone, Bristlecone, Bristlecone Pine

4000 years of electric energy

Breathe the magic (audible breath)

Longevity is its sweet wine

Don’t let your energy be caught in a bind

Just think of, think of, the bristle cone pine.

[Riff with didgeridoo and voice: Standing tall and looking fine

Just think of the Bristlecone pine!]

Sacred Lands

After traveling much of September and October, I have returned home and settled back into the routine. It’s hard to know where to begin to update readers on all that has happened.

I will start with a piece of the National Park’s trip. At the end of September, my friend Viviane and I went on a ten-day journey to visit sacred lands from California to New Mexico. The impetus for the trip was that I am working on a new novel called Here After which takes place in the months following 9-11. Some of the characters in the novel end up driving to New York from San Francisco in what becomes a pilgrimage to bring the wisdom of the sacred lands of this country to NYC and the devastation there. I found in writing it that I needed to visit these places in order to write about them. Thus, the trip.

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Berkeley camp entrance–burned trees

The first day, after driving through areas devastated by the fire, we landed in Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite. We had to find our camping legs rather quickly that night as Tuolumne Meadows turned out to be the coldest spot in the United States that night. We couldn’t hang around there long in the morning as we had far to go that day, but also it was too cold to dally.

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Tioga Pass

We continued through Tioga Pass down to Mono Lake where we stopped for viewing and to get our bearings and pay homage to those who worked so hard to save that precious lake from being drained by voracious water-users. Yes, we had attacks on this country in New York City, but how much devastation do we do to ourselves that goes almost unreported?  nat'l parks trip 9-13 (25)

Our main destination that day was the Bristle Cone Pine Forest, about an hour’s drive up a mountain from Route 395. It was well worth the extra driving as this forest is home to the world’s oldest living beings, the Bristle Cone Pines. They are 4000 to 6000 years old. I had not heard of these trees before a couple of weeks before we left on the trip when someone I met began telling me about a trip she was taking to the forest.  nat'l parks trip 9-13 (23)When I looked it up on the map and saw that we would be going right by there, we made a point of taking that detour to visit the trees.

As we walked around the forest and I played didgeridoo to some of the trees, I could feel an uncanny presence among them. Several times I looked over my shoulders, sure that some humans were coming up on us, only to see that there were just the trees. These trees have learned how to survive in very harsh conditions, high altitude, strong winds, extremes of hot and cold and poor soil.

nat'l parks trip 9-13 (31)nat'l parks trip 9-13 (32)Their presence felt watchful and full of gratitude for the interaction as they absorbed more than just nutrients from their roots. I could sense an openness to our presence, a way in which they may have been taking in even the small amount of energy we were offering them. Perhaps this is the evolutionary step that makes them able to survive on so little.

Maybe they have learned how to appreciate even the smallest gesture of connection, take it in, let it nurture them. I wanted to sit at their roots for long periods of time and to see if I could learn it too. This place could surely be a destination for the future.

Honoring the Trees

oak at sunrise 2

oak at sunrise, Henry Coe State Park

I read not too long ago of an oak tree in China that sprouted in the year 550 AD and just fell down recently. What a lot it saw in all those years! Where do tree spirits go when the trees die?

In Turkey, people are staging an uprising because of a plan to cut down trees in their plaza and replace them with a mall. It is a flashpoint for bringing people together and allowing them to think about what trees mean to the planet and to all of us creatures who live here. The trees are making everyone consider what’s important to them; the trees seem to be inciting democracy.

I have been following the proposed action by University of California at Berkeley (UCB), City of Oakland, and East Bay Regional Park District (EBRPD). They have applied for FEMA grants to cut down a half million trees in the East Bay hills and spray thousands of gallons of herbicide in the clear cut areas. This is part of a misguided fire hazard risk reduction project.The plan is to remove all non-native trees (eucalyptus, Monterey pine, acacia, etc.) and vegetation from the project area: about 86,000 trees in Strawberry and Claremont canyons and in Oakland.  Of course this will have an effect on possible landslides and will reduce habitat for so many birds and insects who have always known these trees and have a relationship with them even if they are non-native.

The public has until June 17, 2013 to submit written comments on the project. Please take the time to  submit written comments:

Via the project website: http://ebheis.cdmims.com

By email: EBH-EIS-FEMA-RIX@fema.dhs.gov

By mail: P.O. Box 72379, Oakland, CA 94612-8579

By fax: 510-627-7147

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Old Man’s Cave State Park in Ohio (Photo Credit: Mark Peeples)

I urge all of us to take the time to go and sit with a tree, see if some of that wisdom and democracy rubs off on us. And take the time to thank the trees for all they do for humans and the rest of the natural world. What steadfast presences they are on this planet. They have so much to teach us about patience and standing our ground.