The Sentient Trees

December 4, 2008 by  
Filed under Nedda

I look out the window at dawn, and the sky is soft salmon laced with blues and blue-grays seen through the black-brown arms of the trees and through pine needles.  It is winter, and the starkness of bare tree limbs is nature’s art against the sky.  When I look out the windows at the back of my house at dusk, similar pictures of pinks and grays entrance my eye. 


How lucky I am to live in this house surrounded by trees, many of which are 60 to 80, maybe even 100 feet tall.  These sentinels of wood are alive with energy and consciousness.  Some are over 100 years old and have long memories.  These are guardian trees. 


They tell me they communicate with each other through their roots to hold the energies of plant life for the Earth.  They say they communicate over long distances, or at least they used to be able to do that, but with so many parts of the planet treeless today, their network of life-force is now broken, full of holes.


Trees have chakras and auras.  When I lie on my back under a tree on a warm summer’s day and look up at the very top against the sky, I have seen their auric field, their energy.  Some trees are healers, and if you sit beneath them and lean your back against their trunks, their energy will fill you and bring you into balance.


I have hugged trees.  I have wrapped my arms around them, pressed my body fully against them, and, with my intention and their permission, allowed myself to merge into them.  I have felt myself a part of them and when I do this, they talk to me.  Trees have a group consciousness, as does humanity and other species, but they talk to me as individuals, too.


There are many Sycamore trees in the town where I live.  Sycamores grow to be very large and tall.  Their bark peels away as they grow, so their outer layer shows white and brown-gray mottling.  Sycamore leaves are similar to giant Maple leaves.  Their leaves come late in the spring and are dropped early in the fall compared to other trees.  Their large seeds, the size of a giant gum-ball, have a heady fragrance.


Great-grandfather Sycamore lives at the southern end of the town.  He is hundreds of years old.  It would take at least 10 humans standing with their arms fully outstretched and holding hands to complete the circle around his base.  His energy is so powerful that when I have sat beneath his arms I can never stay for more than 30 minutes because I become drunk and slighly disoriented with the power of his energy.


The first time I met Great-grandfather, I asked if I could merge.  Not only did he generously allow this, but he showed me a picture of himself as a young sapling.  His memory goes back a long away before humans came and mercilessly chopped down trees.  Yet he does not seem to judge us. 


In the yard where I live there are no Sycamores, but two White Pines on my front lawn are each over 60 feet tall.  White Pine is a soft wood, so these trees “shed” branches when the snows and ice are heavy and/or when the wind is strong.  Their needles are soft, too, and every few years they drop gigantic pine cones that the squirrels love for the pine nuts inside.


Three years ago, I had a man come to trim the White Pine next to the driveway and close to the house.  I chose him carefully, as I wanted someone who really cared about trees. 


J.P. had never met anyone before who told him she talked to trees.  I knew he was the right man for the job, though, because he didn’t bring big mechanical equipment.  Instead, he climbed the tree – went way up into its branches and lowered each large limb gently to the ground.  He told me he wouldn’t want to take down a tree that was healthy, although on his regular daily job, working for the next town over, he often had to do that.


Of course, I spoke to the tree about this visitor coming to prune.  I had asked permission, too.  When J.P. finished cleaning up, he and I stood under the tree together.


“While I was working up there,” said J.P., “I had the strangest feeling that the tree was talking to me.  It seemed to be telling me it was happy, like a dog at the groomer.  The feeling grew and grew as I was working.  Even now, standing beneath this tree, I can feel its happiness.”


“Yes,” I said.  “I feel it, too.”  And I did feel as through the trees energy was expansive and joyful.


This year, I asked J.P. to come back and trim the other White Pine.  When he stopped by to check out all the trees on the land where I live and make a plan for his trimming visit, he mentioned that, “I’ll bet the Pine that you are asking me to trim this year is wondering why you waited so long.”


The next day, I went over to speak with the Pine to tell it what I was planning for it and to ask permission.  I told it about J.P.’s remark.  ‘Don’t worry,” the tree replied.  “It isn’t long in ‘tree time.’”


When J.P. arrived to trim the Pine, he explained how high he would go removing pieces of limbs that had fallen and taking down existing ones.  Then he went up the tree with his ropes and tools.  After he was finished, we again stood beneath this great “standing one” and looked at the result.  Instead of removing equal numbers of branches from all sides, J.P. had trimmed more from one side than from the other 3.


“While I was up there, I could feel the tree telling me where to prune.  I looked over at its partner and it was showing me exactly what it wanted,” J.P. told me.


“Yes,” I replied.  “They know what they want.  And look up.  Can you sense it?  The tree’s physical form may appear, at first, to be out of balance the way you cut it, but in fact, the tree’s energy is now perfectly in balance.”  J.P. could see it, too. 


Happy, healthy trees bring beauty and blessings to the land and to all who live there.  I am so lucky and so blessed to live in this spot where the trees create artful views for me each day.  It’s my job to take care of them by interfering as little as possible and by showing them respect.  I can’t imagine a better way to live than to be in harmony with all life.