Talking with Trees and "Poem of the One World"

It’s time to talk about the elm tree. I don’t know its age, but it’s huge. I can’t even get my arms halfway around its trunk. Its canopy spans nearly the entire back yard. And it speaks to me. 

It’s time to talk about this because I met a man at an apple orchard in Quebec who also communicates with trees. And plants. And all of nature. And he did not think it crazy that a tree talks to me. This was a relief. Maybe I can bring that relief to you, too, if you’re communicating with trees and questioning your sanity. 

Fortunately the tree does not speak audibly, or I’d have even more to question in the way of sanity, but the messages are clear and distinct. They are also clearly and distinctly NOT in my voice. There are three notable instances: 

One early morning, I was admiring this giant elm from my meditative hot tub position. I often think about selling my house, but I’m worried someone will want to build two houses on my lot and cut down the elm I so dearly love.

“I want to protect you,” I thought. 

 “My purpose is not to exist forever,” it replied. 

Oh! I was so surprised at this immediate and strong thought. “What is your purpose?” I cautiously questioned. No response. I waited, then asked again. After a long pause, it responded: “I exist.” 

Mind blown. The tree stands outside of purpose. “To be” is not just sufficient but total. 

Months later came another instance. I was in my usual anxious frame of mind, trying to decide what in the world I should do with my life. Quit my job? Sell the house? Rent it out? Travel? In desperation, I remembered the wisdom once offered by the elm tree, so I asked it what I should do. It didn't exactly speak in this instance, but it showed me its branches and how they spread and angled off in various directions. It didn’t really matter which path they took, but they all grew toward the light. There was no one “right way.” Any of the myriad choices available were valid - as long as growth was toward the light. 

The third instance is a bit more vulnerable, but I want to share. This past spring the elm’s new leaves were nearly fully flounced. It was vibrant and shifting in the early morning breeze. It was gorgeous, glorious. I told it so. Its immediate response: “I’m a mirror.” 

I was shocked, complete with goosebumps and tears. Like many women in this society, at times I fall to vanity and struggle with how I don't fit any of society’s perceptions of beauty. But in that moment, I saw how connected I was with everything. How we are inseparable from the nature we view as outside ourselves. So of course we reflect each other. And for a moment I was beautiful. 

Oh! And now for a great synchronicity that is happening as this post is written! Because this is still a blog of “other people’s poems,” I just peeked inside a recently purchased book of Mary Oliver’s poetry, A Thousand Mornings, hoping to find something apt. I’m laughing now and somewhat shocked (but also not surprised) to find a poem as outrageously fitting as “Poem of the One World”: 

This morning

the beautiful white heron

was floating along above the water

and then into the sky of this

the one world

we all belong to

where everything

sooner or later

is a part of everything else

which thought made me feel

for a little while

quite beautiful myself