Across the street from our house, there used to be a huge 150+ year old white oak tree. She was a grounding force in my life. I looked to her before and after meditation or when I just needed clarity and grounding. She was a mother looking over our neighborhood and I feel her absence every day.
I woke up the morning of April 26, 2023 and I hear Daniel call up the stairs, "I think the new neighbors are about to take the oak tree down!" I ran out the front door with no shoes and headed straight for her. Confirmed with the tree company...yep, she's coming down. My heart just sank. I hugged her. I told her how beautiful she was and how I'm going to miss her. I told her I would be here for her as she leaves this world.
Then I came back inside, went up to my office, and just fell to the floor sobbing. I watched the morning sun shine through her beautiful silhouette, like I'd done so many mornings before. It was a long day witnessing her death and it was heartbreaking. She was one of the healthiest oak trees I had ever seen. Her trunk was solid, not a rotten spot in sight. I think one limb was hollow, but this isn't unusual for a tree her age.
What upset me the most was how unceremoniously such an old tree could just be cut down without anyone questioning it. I mourned for her, for the loss of shelter and food for our wildlife, for the loss of the stories that she held. I went through the grieving process and still miss her. I'm grateful that I found a few things that helped me:
I cried...a lot.
I wrote the neighbors a letter that I never delivered.
I thought of ways we could have an arborist come do a talk to our neighborhood association about the value of old trees in our neighborhood and how to care for them. Still need to do this!
I gathered with 2 friends along a creek and they held space for me to talk about her and they shared in my grief.
I pressed a few of her leaves and had the tree company cut me wood slices that I just now sanded and sealed during my solo fall Seasonal Soul Session.
The most powerful gift she left me, was the value of being present with someone when they're suffering. She was that for me during hard times, and she taught me how to do the same for her the day she left. I had to use this gift other times this summer during the loss of two of our senior cats. Months later and I still feel her absence. I used to meditate facing towards her with a view out my window. Now my mornings start on the other side of my house. There are a few large oaks out there that I'm just getting to know.
Earth lovers, I know you too probably have lost, or are witnessing the loss of individual living beings and entire habitats. It can feel as though your heart can't take it. But one thing I learned this summer, our hearts have layers and layers that can break. But each time I rebuilt those layers back with love and gratitude, somehow my heart grew bigger.
With love,
Amber of Find Your Nature
コメント