The Song of the Forest

I was on hike in Mt. Hood National Forest a couple of weekends ago. I hadn’t hiked on that trail since last autumn, and it felt good to revisit the forest. I don’t know why/how things lined up, but while I was there, it felt like the earth was singing a supportive song, with inspiring takeaways.

Here’s my translation of that song.

…

Go with the Flow

It was a windy May afternoon. The breeze kept coming from what seemed like all directions. There were a lot of species of trees in the forest — Douglas Firs, Ponderosa Pines, Maple trees, Cedars etc. — and they were all swaying quite a lot.

It made me wonder: What would happen to a tree, its branches, stems and leaves if it were to resist the wind, if it were to be stubborn and refuse to move along with the breeze?

Well, if it’s a light subtle breeze, the leaves might crumble apart. There’s only so much resistance they can withstand before they give in and fall down.

If it’s a strong breeze, essentially the same thing would happen to stems and branches: they could eventually come down to the earth, broken and separated from the tree.

In either case, the tree wouldn’t survive. It’s not in the best interest of the tree to resist that which it doesn’t have control over. Perhaps that’s why it evolved to be flexible enough to withstand unexpected gusty winds.

And that reminded me of life and its winds: you don’t know when they’ll come, how intense they’d be and how long they’d last. All you can do when they show up, is learn how to cope with them to the extent that you can; once you’ve done that part, you have to sway with the breeze. You have to do a sweet surrender and merge with it.

Resistance and rigidity would impede your life; acceptance, action and fluidity would bring ease into your life.

…

Be one with the earth

The trail I was on was relatively solitary and there weren’t a lot of hikers. I paused my hike for a few minutes and closed my eyes, placing my hands over my heart, soaking in the sunshine and warmth.

I don’t know what prompted me, but I started dancing gently, my arms swaying in the space around me. That space — the seemingly empty space around me — is the earth. The molecules of air near me are the earth. I am the earth. The trail I was standing on is the earth.

I looked around me. There were so many ways in which the earth was manifesting: trees, rivers, rocks, dirt, squirrels, birds, clouds, deer, seeds…the list went on.

I felt like I was one of the ways in which the earth had manifested; I was no different from the river that was flowing beside the trail, or the Cedar tree that was sprouting up from the earth. We were all various forms of manifestation, each living their life in the precious form that had been gifted to them.

How could I draw the lines between ‘me’ and the ‘trees’, or the ‘soil’, or the ‘river’? It’s like trying to classify and delineate various ethnicities, genders and ages: they might look/seem different, but they’re all humans. I felt like it was the same concept, just stretched out across every being/thing on earth: we’re all various forms, each one a unique painting, with different colors, textures and moods.

Coming to that realization through a visceral experience made me feel like I was part of an integrated circle of existence. Life felt more like a random drawing in which someone — call it destiny, or my parents — decided to manifest me as a human. I don’t know what ‘I’ was prior to this life, nor do I know what I will be in the next life.

However, in this moment, I am blossoming in this grateful human form, beautiful as all other forms are in their manifestations.

…

Soak in Faith and Confidence

I walked to the edge of the trail; it overlooked a valley through which a river was flowing. On the precipice, was a small Cedar tree (at-least that’s what I thought it was), growing next to a big one.

I thought about how it ‘felt’ growing along an edge that had a fifty-sixty feet dropdown into the valley. What if its roots needed to spread further out, but they couldn’t because it was so close to the edge of the precipice? What if some gusty winds were to topple it over into the valley?

I’m anthropomorphizing a bit here, but I felt inspired by the tree: the list of its ‘worries’ could go on, but the tree was there, doing its part and growing. Its seed was planted wherever it was meant to be and it, along with the earth, blossomed and kept growing, living in the present moment. Maybe it had faith in the bigger tree beside it: ‘If that sibling of mine did it, so can I.’ Maybe it had enough self-trust to know that it could adapt to tough times. It might also have enough gratitude and a sense of support from the earth, its mother, to help it thrive along its journey of manifestation as a Cedar tree.

Regardless of what kept the tree growing, I couldn’t help but soak in its self-trust and its supportive connection with the earth.

It was rejuvenating to observe those qualities manifesting in front of me, giving me proof that growth and thriving is possible, despite odds and challenges.

…

For all your inspiring songs — with their wondrous lyrics and tunes — I owe a lot of gratitude to you, beautiful earth.

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

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From The Good Men Project on Medium

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