I first discovered my strong connection to nature when I met a certain tree. It stood on the border of our property and the neighbours and was my first real place of refuge, sanctuary and sometimes even community. A mature and graceful willow tree, it was one of three on our property – but the chosen one, because of the ease with which a child could settle themselves onto her lowest limb, like a comfortable lap, before graduating to the upper branches. I soon became a tree-hugger.
Until now, I have never really considered the identity of trees, but this one had a mothering, or at least a receiving and protecting energy. Hidden amongst her cascade of leaves, I could remain unseen if I wished, and observe the comings and goings of the street, which was mostly quiet, apart from the odd game of street hockey. The houses were far enough apart that neighbours were not easily heard. It was not as if I had a tumultuous household to escape, unless my brother and I were bickering about some inconsequential matter or I wanted to avoid the possibility of being assigned a chore. Mostly I went there when I was feeling lonely. Occasionally my friend next door would join me. We would share private thoughts, some of them quite philosophical, and even laughter.
It would be so very wonderful if every child had the opportunity to connect in some way with the natural world around them. In the past year and a half, I have seen the number of families with children hiking the forest trail increase exponentially – for lack of recreational outlets during various “lockdowns” and restrictions. Hopefully as future adults, these children will serve as a balance to the countless others whose life circumstances place them nowhere near nature; those who have never closely peered at the formation of tree buds in early Spring, or the unfurling of ferns along the banks of a meandering creek.
We need a world where parents are not afraid to wander off the marked trail with their child - exploring the decay that appears to end the life cycle of a fallen tree, yet feeds a hundred other species in their endlessly symbiotic dance – as long as they are also mindful of its perils and its preservation.[RC1] Of course, a child can still learn about flora and fauna from a backyard lawn, or even a sidewalk, but there is something special about the forest. If you cannot get into the woods on at least a weekly basis, to breathe in the healing aerosols emitted by trees of all kinds, then make friends with the tree nearest to you.
As scientists have discovered, and researchers continue to study, we are more connected to trees than we realize - just as they appear more interdependent than we once thought. They communicate above ground warnings, releasing both chemical and hormonal signals to fend off approaching disease, insect invasion and even animals. Below ground, they can share nutrients and protect each other via a vast fungal network. They inhale what we exhale, and vice versa. In fact, they provide a great deal more than we give them credit for, and it is quite possible that our survival, and that of all animal life, depends upon our reawakening to the need for mindfulness, thankfulness, and reciprocity in our plant relationships.
Read “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer to discover how many native traditions around the planet have always placed much importance on this acknowledgement. We cannot survive in the world where we are simply “takers”. Whether we harvest the earth for tools, medicines, dyes, or building, indigenous beliefs dictate that there should always be enough left for the seventh generation of our descendants.
Upon reading the book “To Speak for the Trees” by Diana Beresford-Kroeger - both a world-recognized botanist and final descendent of a long lineage of Celtic wisdom - I discovered that the ancient Celtic Ogham alphabet arose from the inspiration of trees and plants. It is clear just how important a role they played in everyday life. The willow, to which I was drawn as a child, has several hundred species around the world. Traditionally used for everything from baskets to furniture, to garden beds, it also provides a family of medicines called salicylates, used for pain of many kinds. What truly amazed me was discovering that the willow’s many biochemical components are easily absorbed into and around our bodies and that some Indigenous tribes of North America take advantage of this in a special type of “forest bathing” as a treatment for loneliness and even mild depression. Perhaps my tree called to me.
Teach your children to not only love trees, but to protect them. Our planet will thank you.
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