The Trees Whisper
This Spring I lost the soul that has been closest to me in my sojourn on planet earth – my dog, Jax. Subsequently I found out that my mother is dying of lung cancer. How do we even grace ourselves with the time to grieve when we are constantly bombarded with bills, stress, and errands? Yesterday I waited on hold on the telephone with the IRS for over five and a half hours for a simple name change on a business form.
When I was a child, at my grandmother’s home, we would drink water, fresh out of a crystal-clear mountain spring, then gently pluck out a handful of lime-green watercress and eat it whilst running to put on our galoshes so that we could hunt for frogs in the Grilly Grove (what we called the swamp area behind my granny’s home). We played pick-up-sticks and marbles and ran to the corner store for penny candy. We didn’t need body exercises to connect us to our bodies as we were fully and palpably inhabiting them.
As an empath seemingly trapped in a foreign land, i.e., what this crazy world has evolved into, I believe the gift we give of simply being ourselves, being real, and sharing our stories, is a magical elixir in and of itself. And although nothing promises to be the ultimate panacea, I believe that the true heroines and heroes of our time simply keep putting one foot ahead of the other on their unique hero’s journey, amalgamating their extraordinary personal blend of wisdom and experience, then sprinkling it upon us as we attempt to navigate this expedition with our intuition in a society that rewards left-brained creations. Parched in a seeming never-ending desert of disingenuousness, their words deluge the scorched territory of my soul, as they have the courage and tenacity to reside in integrous authenticity.
This week I took the time out to go sit amongst the Aspen trees in the Uinta Forest and listen to what they had to say. I temporarily dodged the daily pressure cooker, whilst pushing down grief (who has time for it?) while simultaneously worrying about how to support my son through medical school as a single mom. Here is what the Aspen had to say:
the trees whisper
unmoored
bathing in incandescent emptiness
enveloped in nature’s tender arms
held in the effervescent effulgence
the trees whisper
listen
in these dazzling quaking aspen
amidst the towering evergreens
where fairies nestle atop glistening dewdrops
and moonbeams dance on starlight’s shadow
i hear them calling
their echo beckons etching upon me
artist’s strokes of ancient wisdom
saturating gentle stillness
seeping sweet syrup into my soul
as society wanders further
from the truth of tranquil dawn
hear the bird’s wings flutter
notice the flaxen sun
peeking through tender hollows
of pearlescent formless clouds
reminding you of home
deluge yourself in the edgelessness
of the forest pastel flowers
as they yawn into the golden rays
of the morning dawn
you are not forgotten
feel the gentle breeze that tickles
ne’er allowing yourself to be swallowed up
in societal deadness and sleeping zombies
hypnotized by norms
awaken to each moment
wrap authenticity around you
like pastel colored gift wrap
with a phosphorescent glow
your gentleness will dwindle
blown away on desert winds
if you neglect to listen
to your heartbeat’s coral flow
we know you feel left behind
in a madhouse built in fear
light up the ebony sky
swirling in the cosmos
bringing trails of stardust
into each and every day
don’t let your voice be drowned out
keep singing your love song
let it glide cascading o’er you
until you are released
from this dreamless dream
into our arms to stay
listen to the whisper of the trees
©akirataylor
