....rooted in place

Yogis,
In the early days of Covid rearranging our lives, I shifted my running schedule. A few days a week I could now run in daylight, and without a rush hour I was able to run a river loop that requires me to cross the parkway at the edge of town without risking my life. It was then that I first noticed a particular tree.

I would run the roads down to the canal and river entrance, stand by the river for a quick hello, and then follow the hidden trails up to the next lock. There I only have to run along the heavily traveled canal towpath for a short time before heading across the parkway and back home…..a bonus considering Phoebe’s distaste for close encounters with other dogs on leashes.

It was on the lower river trail that I saw her.

She is not remarkable for her height or width. She is slightly crooked as she reaches for the light. A maple tree, she is surrounded by many like her. Most may not even notice her. But she has a gift, that in turning toward the sun as a youngster, she created the perfect seat for allowing tree huggers like me to lie our spines against her trunk.

I began to do just that last spring. A five-minute pause to sit, close my eyes and tune in to the morning, while Phoebe stands close by as my sentry. I continue to do it once or twice a week to this day.

Each time as I feel complete with my ‘sit’ I open my eyes and look around. After a few months of this routine I began to envision what the life of a tree might be like. How having your feet so deeply rooted that there is no movement forward or back forces life to happen to you.

As humans we are constantly going. No rest for the weary is our motto! Not wanting to become stuck or complacent we are on the move, seeking that which we believe will bring happiness. A tree, not so much. Life must come to them. They are the consummate observers of all that happens.

This particular tree has an amazing view. River to one side. Old growth trees, including one sycamore with the girth of a small bus, to the other. A path that travels along its side bringing occasional visitors such as me. I imagine how others over the years may have stopped to rest their weary legs. If nothing else, she hears them laugh and feels their breath as they pass.

The earliest morning rays of the sun shine on her…..every day of every year. The phases of the moon happen above her.  In spring I am sure squirrels travel up her trunk and wrens create nests in her branches. She can watch the geese and ducks with their newly formed families swim by her roots during summer. Fall surrounds her with an explosion of color and winter gifts her with unobstructed views of the river and canal. The deer and fox her companions.

The days go by….the months….the years. It rains on her in the dark of night. Snow swirls and settles on her seat. Occasionally the wind will snap off one of her branches. Planes fly overhead. The river overflows its banks and surrounds her. Rainbows come and go. She quietly observes. Her neighboring trees and she age together. No need to go anywhere. Life comes to her.

Poor tree, we say. She doesn’t get to travel the world and see all of the sites. She is missing out on life.

I will respectfully disagree. This morning I sat in her seat. My pulse harmonizing with hers. Together we watched the world go by.

My teacher,
SARAH