No I don't talk to trees...not presently anyways. But I am becoming more aware of how good nature feels, especially now that Spring is here. There is value in listening to the chirp of birds, the rustling of leaves, the whisper of the wind. A few years ago, I would have perceived these things differently. Birds chirping? Thoroughly annoying at six in the morning. Wind whispering? Probably would not have noticed unless it was gale force, then I would have been scared and heading to the basement. Leaves rustling? ditto, and then cursed all the twigs I would then have to pick up the day after the wind storm.
A few years ago, when I was visiting my unusual family in la belle province, my cousin who is in her seventies talked about meeting Jacob...the tree. Yes, indeed, she had been for a walk in the park and had seen a tree that was so beautiful that she felt compelled to go up to it and hug it and, get this, LISTEN to it. The tree told her that it's name was Jacob, and that this was its second incarnation. It told her that it was happy, and that it loved her very much. Uh Huh. At this point, I made a couple of snap judgements like: good ole coz was definitely missing a few essential marbles, and dear God why, WHY had I been born into this family's gene pool. Hopefully, I was spared this particular tree talking gene.
Now looking back, I see my cousin differently. Where I once considered her rather eccentric, I now see that she is wise...and eccentric but in a cute way. She has always treasured trees, plants and wild animals. Chipmunks will come and eat right out of her hand. She has always communed with nature. She is one of the most peaceful people I know. Sure, when she starts talking about the spirits she sees and the trees she converses with she may come across as a bit of a nutbar, but I no longer see her that way. I think she is one of the few people who has reached a level of higher vibration/consciousness so that she is capable of hearing and seeing things that I and most people can't see or hear.
As I am getting older, I find myself taking the time to watch a squirrel as it makes its way across the top of my backyard fence. I find myself craving for a walk in Springbank park before I have to open the store for the day. In the summer, I will again sit by my small tree in the back yard and listen intently to the wind rustle its leaves. Taking the time to listen, really listen, has given me this indescribably joyous feeling and I am now addicted.
My morning glass of Metamucil is so much more fun to drink when I'm standing at the window looking at the birds and squirrels. A few years ago, I never would have thought I would appreciate birds and small furry animals to an extent beyond "Oh they're so cute!" My life would have been consumed with way more busy activities and thoughts.
Maybe my "conversing with trees" gene has yet to be activated. If it ever is, I will certainly compare notes with my cousin.
