The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois or Six Nations) Peace Tree (Skaęhetsiˀkona) Sept/Oct
by Beverly Gordon
In a meditation where we asked specific trees if they would serve as peace ambassadors, the basswood I worked with instantly connected with the Haudenosaunee Peace Tree, which I hadn’t consciously thought about in decades. An image of a conical white pine appeared in front of me, and I remembered how powerful a peacemaker it is.
The tree was (and remains) a central symbol of the Iroquois confederacy of six different nations centered in what is now New York state. These formerly warring tribes (Mohawk, Seneca, Onondaga, Oneida, Cayuga; later joined by the Tuscarora) were brought together by Dekanawidah, “the Great Peacemaker,” well before European contact—estimates vary, but the Iroquois believe it to have been about the 12th century. Dekanawidah planted an Eastern White Pine on Onondaga land, and representatives from each nation met under its branches to come to a lasting peace. (In some versions of the story, they literally buried weapons underneath it; they “buried the hatchet.”) They articulated a constitution, known as the Gayanashagowa, or Great Law of Peace. It was not recorded in written language, but remained an oral transmission. Its agreements were symbolized in beaded shell [wampum] belts, which served as memory devices.
The “Hiawatha” wampum belt with the peace tree in the center. Made prior to 1600.
The Iroquois Confederacy is thought of as the first representative or participatory democracy in the world. The Great Law of Peace established a model that is known to have influenced the writers of the U.S. constitution.
The Haudenosaunee knew this pine as “the tree of the Great Long Leaves,” and its clusters of five needles symbolized the original five nations. Its roots were symbolic as well—the “Great White Roots of Peace” extended in the four directions, across the earth. If anyone truly desired peace, they could follow the roots back to the source and take shelter beneath the tree. It was a literal and metaphoric place of renewal. In essence, the Peacemaker taught that the Tree of Peace represents the spiritual law of nature, which must be honored. When it is, the tree provides strength and clarity.
It is exciting to me that the Tree of Peace wants us to honor and work with it now. It is intimately connected to the North American earth, and to the overlighting vision of democracy that this land holds. It has guided the wisdom path for many centuries. Join me in welcoming this tree to our circle of friends.
Tree Love in Northern Ireland July/August by Debbie Grovum
My husband and I loved Northern Ireland so much when we were there two years ago that we decided to return. Happily, I found that what I loved most about the area-wild landscapes, lush greenery and friendly people- was the same. But one big thing had changed in the two years since our last visit-me.
In the past two years, I have tuned in more to the spirit of trees and the ability to connect with them. Thanks to being involved with the Global Tree Lovers, learning about the Music of the Plants and orienting trees, I felt the power of trees in a whole new way.
Everywhere we went I felt welcomed and embraced by the enchanting trees of Northern Ireland. Humble trees and famous trees-I felt community with all of them.
Driving into one of our B&Bs, a stately row of trees greeted us and invited us to their home
As I explored a walled garden behind a Buddhist temple, gently swaying trees led me to an almost-hidden statue of Buddha at the end of a walkway.
The most famous tree encounter I had was with the Dark Hedges. We did not get to visit them on our last trip, so we made seeing them a high priority this trip. James Stuart planted the hauntingly beautiful tunnel of beech trees in 1775 to create an impressive entrance to his family estate.
The almost 250-year-old common beech trees have exceeded their usual life expectancy of 150-200 years. Their advanced age has caused them to grow in an unusual, twisted manner creating a haunting, mystical atmosphere. As I approached the magical beech-lined avenue, the air felt purified and the light seemed softer.
My Encounter with Trees and Forests in New Zealand May/June by Mary Getten
I spent a month in New Zealand recently and was surprised at the tree situation I encountered there. On the South Island, many of the hillsides, and what I would call mountains, were bare, with grasses and shrubs in the lower slopes and rock above. It reminded me of Scotland, but with taller more rugged peaks. In the lowlands, there were native beech tree and fern forests that were reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest.
Old planted stands of Douglas fir are now growing wild on some hillsides, but they are being clear cut or poisoned in an effort to restore the native ecosystem. Around Queenstown, we saw several areas of brown trees that had been poisoned, especially on steep slopes. It was also odd to hike in Mt. Cook National Park and not find dense forests of large fir trees. Instead, we saw mostly scrubby low-lying shrubs.
Travelling north, we encountered more and more logging. On the north end of the South Island, many of the forests had been clear cut, some replanted, and others left bare. We saw even more logging on the North Island. I was really surprised to find such a large timber industry. In the north, the native vegetation became more vibrant with some coniferous forests and lots of ferns.
I was astounded at the tropical vegetation. There are amazing tree ferns which I had previously only seen on Martinique and Dominica in the Caribbean. In many places the tallest trees in the forest were the 20-25+ foot Ferns. Tree ferns in New Zealand? How wonderful! Unfortunately, we did not get to the forests of New Zealand’s tallest and biggest native trees the Kahikatea and Kauri – very large and stately conifers.
I also encountered many lovely stands of trees in small towns and cities throughout the country. Every large town had an amazing Botanical Garden with trees from all over the world. Many of these specimens were gigantic! Especially the Sequoias which were imported from the US west coast. They seemed to do very well in the New Zealand climate. In Rotorua, we visited a redwood forest sanctuary and were enchanted with a few square miles of California Redwoods that were very happy. It was wonderful to connect with them.
When Moss And Mushrooms Grow From My Cracks March/April by Diana Wyatt
Inspired by visiting The Angel Oak Tree (St. Johns Island, South Carolina) on 2/23/24
When I am ancient, wise from longevity and experience, I want birds, squirrels and butterflies to take refuge in my hair.
I want tiny bugs, ants, and worms to tickle the crevices of my bark, and when I shake with laughter to release my leaves, even then, I know, I am nourishing the ground.
Where time and winds have etched paths, and self pruned branches have left scars; may they ever only reveal more… more to love and more to heal with each stroke of Nature’s paintbrush.
When I have completed my journey’s work, I want to rest like the moss dangling from the branches so effortlessly, dancing on the breeze.
And Mushrooms, I want to grow mushrooms in the bends of my elbows and knees- from the bountiful, beautiful crevices of my bark to supply all the magical ingredients needed for nourishment in life for myself and for you.
I want others to come and walk on the soil that covers my roots; can you feel my heartbeat pulse beneath your feet?
I want to give others freedom, freedom to rest beneath the glorious crown of branches which allows shade and a shield from the storms~Freedom to simply Be and deeply breathe.
I want to stretch far and wide to surround you with my strong, beautiful, gnarly branches.
Would you rest here in my arms just a while, may I caress you with my new, gently blooming buds?
Memories of Trees Jan/Feb 2024 by Che’usa Wend
The beautiful story of The Mother Tree in ‘One Last Gift’ written by Anne Cederberg stirred memories in me of how I came to adore trees.
Raised the first 4 years of my life on the farm of my 5th great grandfather in central Ohio, my first memories of special trees were the ones Grandpa used to paint the bottom 2 feet of with some kind of white mixture. I never asked why, just imagining it was a way to lead friends up the tree lined curving driveway to the old old farmhouse. Autumn was my favorite season as it meant the swing that hung off a branch of the old tree outside the dining room would lose its colourful leaves and provide safe landing for me if someone wasn’t there to catch me as I was tempted to try exiting the seat before the swing came to a stop. I had seen my older brother do it and wanted to try.
The move to our own home about 12 miles away on a rural road with a small creek running through it was my next outing with Nature. Daddy planted trees as the only ones there had been nurtured along the little creek over the years. I was still too little to climb them and gave up that thought, having seen my younger brother attempt it, falling to the ground and breaking his arm.
I would walk across the narrow part of the creek to get to the back acre where my older brother and a few of our neighbor friends would play baseball, as the narrow board they had placed as a ‘bridge’ was too wobbly for me.
The day came when I was brave enough, at 5 years old, to walk up and say, ‘I want to bat’, unfortunately was the exact moment a neighbor girl swung at the pitch and the bat hitting my forehead resulted in 7 stitches. I can understand now why indoor play with my dolls, writing in my little diary, learning to sew, baking cookies were all favorites of mine. In school years, I began wearing glasses in 6th grade, so cheer-leading seemed safer for me than ‘contact sport’.
At 21, having graduated college to be a schoolteacher because mother was one, I moved to the East Bay area in northern California. I learned it was a time when there were too many teachers, so a career as an escrow officer for a title company filled my days. I don’t recall seeing a lot of trees and my quiet times still involved sewing, baking and writing.
At 47, a move to 2 acres along the Sandy River between Portland and Mt. Hood brought me face to face with old, wizened trees. From city life to this was like walking into a Fairy Tale. I could almost feel the Magical Ones who called that land their Home. Driving down the hill from the main road, winding through trees, past a pond with Ducks and occasional Loon, reminded me of the movie, ‘On Golden Pond’. The driveway was barely visible for the trees that enveloped it, one curve and there sat a salt-box style house surrounded by more old, quiet trees. A path led down to a little Sandy Beach where we could fish.
One day looking out, we were amazed to see, not just the few deer that grazed in the yard, but one that was half white. I watch her as she slowly meandered into an unexplored area of the property which was more wooded. I wondered what was there . . . and discovered my ‘Grandmother Tree’. Someone said that lightning had created the way She grew. I yearned to sit on one of her branches. So my husband carried out a ladder and helped me up into Her Arms. A new Vantage Point opened in my life. The next time I took my Journal up with me, and a snack and I entered The Realm of The Magical Ones.
December Blog Post
2023 GTL Annual Review… It’s been a year of many wonderful accomplishments. We would like to share these highlights with you:
- Bev, Anne and Mary participated in the “Our Mystical Nature” event, organized by Anne, in March.
- The Global Tree Orienting Weekend in May was a great success with over 6,000 trees oriented in 14 different countries.
- The 4th annual Global Tree Meditation took place on July 14.
- The 5th annual Celebration of Trees in October at Sacred Lands featured the Tritone Crisantemo and the Masterplants Orchestra. Over 70 people enjoyed music created by 6 plant musicians.
- GTL organized the MasterPlants Orchestra four city North American tour for Tritone Crisantemo. Concerts were held in FL, PA, CO and Bermuda.
- GTL offered MasterPlants concerts in Sarasota and St Pete, FL.
- Anne, Mary and Bev each had a chapter accepted for an anthology of trees book to be published in 2024.
- The Messages for the Redwoods exhibit was displayed at the Hiouchi Visitors Center in the Jedidiah Smith Redwoods State Park in California.
- The Messages for the Redwoods video has over 330 views, to date. Messages for the Redwoods – YouTube
- GTL coordinated with like-minded, tree focused, groups: Tree Diaries; Listening Field; Global Tree Network
- GTL posted several hundred Facebook posts
- GTL added video clips to the GTL Youtube Channel Global Tree Lovers – YouTube
- Mary and Bev were interviewed on “Adventures in Eco Relations” podcasts with Danielea Castell.
We look forward to an extraordinary year in 2024, expanding and deepening the connections between trees and humanity! Hope to see you at an event next year.
MESSAGE RECEIVED DURING THE MASTERPLANTS ORCHESTRA CONCERT AT UNITY OF SARASOTA October/November 2023 channeled by Linda Fairbanks
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Go deeper into the inner realm and listen.
Here, there are answers in the Breath—
In the sharing of the Breath.
Shift your thoughts to your enhanced senses,
Where the circumstances currently occurring in your physicality dissolve away.
Allow the balm of the earth magnetics to envelop you and bathe you
in its offerings of Peace, stillness, and a profound love from the IS-ness, the Divine.
Allow your cells to open and receive
The effects are subtle and long lasting
Creating a more awakened existence on the planet,
Where there is no hierarchy, where all are recognized for their intelligence.
Communication without words, with frequency—
it is the language, so to speak, of the Universe.
Allow, Acknowledge, Absorb.
There is no threat to your beliefs,
as the subtleties, which are imparted thru the exchange of energies, are
Truth, and recognized as the Purity of Perfection.
Once your cells attune and are enlivened the heart’s frequency becomes an aggregate–
A harmonic of the Oneness,
And a shift into a new paradigm unfolds.
ONE FINAL GIFT August/September 2023 by Anne Cederberg
I first saw the Mother Tree across the open field that was my new back yard. A majestic Live Oak, she had, like many of her kind, one very long lower branch reaching out from her trunk twenty-five or thirty feet into the surrounding meadow. To me, it appeared as one very long arm, reaching out to embrace the earth, to shelter and protect the dozens of small saplings growing at her feet. She was the image of abundance with a beautiful shape, a rich crown above and her plentiful progeny. The limb made a gesture of giving, of bestowing, this reaching out, as if she was sprinkling blessings on the ground below her.
The long branch made it look like she could topple over. And indeed, when we met, she was already leaning. Her roots had been loosened in the sandy Florida soils by a deluge of rain, a souvenir from a tropical storm. Leaning or not, she was breath-takingly beautiful.
As we began the process of settling into our new home, my dog Jesse and I explored the back acreage. There were large open areas which were densely packed with various wildflowers between mowings. There was a pond in the back corner, where gators, snakes, otters, and freshwater turtles spent their days. Whistling ducks stood on the branches of an old snag, where they had a nest in a cavity. There was a strip of woods at the back edge, full of ferns and vines and briars, impassable to human feet.
Wherever we wound up on our wanderings, we always began them by visiting the Mother Tree. That long branch was just a little taller than me and I would ask permission to come into her space and touch it. I was always granted that opportunity. I would reach up and hug her with my hands. I traced her bark with my fingers. It was rough and home to lichens and small tuffs of moss in the furrows.
She was perhaps 75-80 years old and had no doubt experienced a lot in that time. There must have been thousands of migrating songbirds who had rested in her along their journey. Generations of nesting squirrels and clutches of avian babies had found a home in her boughs. She had witnessed the changing landscape which shifted this place from a natural area to an orange grove to a small goat farm and now to a home along a bustling street.
Though there were 40 or more trees on the property, of several species, I knew immediately she was the Mother Tree.
Every morning like clockwork, while Jesse explored the back areas, I greeted and shared a loving moment with the Mother Tree. Her energy was beautiful. She was nurturing, an island of loving kindness nestled amidst the harshness of sirens and other chaos. I often greeted the day in her presence.
Then one day it happened. Another tropical storm, Michael I believe. I was working about two miles away and watched in awe as the skies opened and it rained– pounded down for many hours. I had never seen such a downpour. The usual short drive home was long and slow that night as ditches on either side were now swollen and overflowing into the street.
We got more than seven inches of rain that day.
I went to bed that night, as I did many times in that house, wondering if the flood waters would seep under the doorway into my living space. We were spared.
The same was not true for the Mother Tree.
When the morning came, I stepped outside into a sunny day. Water stood ankle deep in many places in the yard, but piles of leaves and twigs showed the floodwaters were beginning to recede. I turned to look in the back, and there I saw my friend, the Mother Tree, sprawled across the lawn. The huge amounts of water had further loosened her roots and she tipped; her mighty weight came down to rest on the earth. She was probably 35-40 feet long stretched out. I went out and walked now among her branches, seeing remnants of all the life she had sheltered: lichens, air plants, mosses. A nest. Her beautiful crown, now horizontal, was still way over my head. I walked back inside the house, hoping that my landlord would just let it stay there and grow horizontally. Sometimes folks did that.
Soon there was a commotion in the back yard and a swarm of men with chain saws began the huge job of dismantling her branches. I plugged my ears the best I could and put on music, trying to drown out the saws and the sounds of the men. While they celebrated their good teamwork, I cried.
That evening, after the men had dispersed and the saws were silenced, I walked back to visit her, laying now in pieces. I loved this tree so and now she was gone. I stepped over logs and around limbs and got to the stump.
I gasped when I saw it. Where she had been cut, a heart shape had appeared, formed from sap.
She loved us too. I felt she held no bitterness towards those who cut her down. It was her time. Generations of giving her gifts of oxygen and homes and food, were now ended.
In her final moments, she found a way to give one last gift.
Her best.
Her love.
THERE IS A PLACE July 2023 by alicea kratkiewicz
There is a place where the wind sings….
To the sound of branches gently dancing…
There is a place where Spirit dwells..
Where the Silence speaks…
There is a place where you can hear
Your Souls Song…
Shhhh… iS A Place
Listen Now.
TREES RESPOND TO LOVE June 2023 By Mary J Getten
Have you ever noticed how readily trees respond to love and attention? It’s true – they DO!
When I lived on Orcas Island in Washington State, a new neighborhood was being built behind my house. To make room, they had to remove a 100-year-old orchard. My neighbors and I were very sad that these lovely old trees were going away. We had admired them for years from afar.
We spoke to the arborist in charge of the project and asked if he would be willing to move some of the fruit trees to the back of our property. We had plenty of room and would welcome an assortment of apple, pear and plum trees. He advised us that it was very hard to transplant such old trees and that the likelihood of them surviving was slim. We told him that we would like to try, so he graciously brought about 15 trees over and planted them for us.
The five women in my little neighborhood got together and made a schedule for us to tend to the trees. Every day, one of us would go out to each tree and connect with it. We took time to touch them lovingly, encourage them to grow, tell them how happy we were that they were there, and of course water them if needed. This went on for months through the long winter. It was so heartwarming to see my neighbors standing in the cold, whispering to the trees.
In the spring, the arborist came back to check on the trees, and was astonished to find that not only were they all alive, but they were blooming! He asked what we had done and was surprised to hear that our love and attention had carried these elders through the winter and helped them establish and thrive. We enjoyed lovely fruit that summer and fall and continued to give our trees loving attention and gratitude for their bounty.
ARE FALLEN TREE LIMBS DEAD? May 2023 By Linda Fairbanks
Yes and no. It may depend entirely on the observer. There may be new paths to be taken by the fallen limb: the woodpile, the mill, fuel for the forest floor, or a vehicle of creativity. The fallen limb is a gift from nature. A way for the already giving tree, to give again. There is perspective involved. The question arises. Are they a nuisance or a blessing?
After hurricane Ian, there were tree limbs everywhere, blocking drains, dismembering trees, blocking roadways, hanging on roofs. The clean-up involved many hands. Neighborhood people came out and began the process of making piles and clearing streets. Emotions were intense with sadness and sorrow at the devastation. The work was hard, sloshing thru water and debris, but there was a rhythm to it, and I let the emotions run thru me touching my nerve endings with heartache. At some point the pain of grief was replaced with a sense of honor. When I bent to grasp a tree branch, I felt electrified, as if it was communicating a message. “I’m still alive, but also know that I may be dying.” This feeling enveloped me and it turned the task of clearing the rubble into a Holy Moment. I felt a kinship with these fallen limbs. Instead of thoughts of suffering my focus flipped to compassion where thoughts of love and appreciation for Nature over took the physical thoughts of human discomfort. Like a page turning in a book, an awareness of a different more complete knowing was now apparent. The tree limbs had sacrificed their own life as part of a whole tree, to the process of thinning. There was recognition that the hurricane was more than an element of destruction. The complexity of the intelligence of Nature was overwhelmingly beautiful, profound and beyond everyday thinking. I could see the physical devastation of buildings blown away and people’s belongings strewn about- manmade creations, houses, cars, roofs gone. But there were the massive Live Oaks, and Maples, and Pine trees uprooted and un-limbed. All were a part of the dismantling, the devastation. But for the Holy Moments of cleanup and receiving messages from the fallen limbs there was sacredness and a window into seeing a higher level of the Earth’s intelligence.
Tears came as a chemicalization wafted thru my cells with vigor, sending waves of a new understanding. A portal into the Divine opened and my inner being entwined with the Spirits of the Trees. A communion took place, a transfiguration—not water into wine, but human-ness, humble-ness into honor. Physical into the Sublime. It was bliss. Not knowing why, I started holding these fallen limbs to my heart, like a mother to a wounded child. A few branches seemed to communicate that they wished to come home with me. Soon, I stacked a pile of limbs into my arms and carried them to be saved—to be repurposed. I know only that we were somehow connected, and that creativity would enter giving a new function to these fallen limbs.
The tree limbs were placed in a container, like flowers in a vase. They were broken and beautiful, each having a unique energy, a unique story imbedded. Over time, I held each branch and asked each in turn what I could do. Joy came one day, as I received an idea! Wands. They wanted to become wands for healing purposes. Experimentation came next. I whittled the bark, painted a few, wrapped coil and placed crystals and feathers on them. Then I invited the “Tree Sisters” to come and combine our energies and to create the means for these fallen limbs to fulfill their next highest purpose.
The wonderful and wise group of women, the Tree Sisters, were entrusted with the task of bringing forward the physical uniqueness of their tree branch. In circle we created a space for deep listening, with the intention of opening to the Tree Spirit to ignite the healing energies ingrained within their form. Our imaginations unlocked the creative process and each limb was embellished with sacred bling. The lotus petal of the tree limb opened—a rebirthing. After the ooing and ahhing, and the photos, each of us took a turn lying on a massage table to experience the energies of the wands, and to activate and connect each tree limb energetically to each other in a web-like recognition of the mycelium network that was in their former life, as part of a tree. The energies grew tendrils and weaved and entwined creating a Merkabah to be used for healing activities set in motion by intention and deep communion.
After note: I found it interesting that our wands were similar in color, similar to sisters being individuals, but looking somewhat alike. It was like we and the wands were family.
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NATURE PAINTS A PICTURE April 2023 By Alicea Kratkiewicz
Alicea’s poem was inspired by her experience meditating under the boughs of a Laurel Oak.
White clouds moving
Across bluest sky
As hummingbird perched…
Upon a small branch
Rising and falling gently
With each warm breeze
His Wings flutter….
Looking Down
On a Circle of Light
Listening to the music of
The Garden
Moving to the sound of the gong…
Echoes rising and falling…
Little wings flutter
As he joins the leaves in shadow…
In a shower of golden leaves gently falling…
Blessings from the two Guardians of this garden.
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Co-Creative Poetry March 2023 By Anne Cederberg
In November 2022, the Global Tree Lovers held our Fourth Annual Celebration of Trees. Included was an interspecies, co- creative poetry experience. We focused our attention on an ancient cedar tree nearby. No longer bearing needles, its bark was silvered and smoothed by coastal winds, it’ beautiful shape accentuated by the foliage of other plants nearby.
As we came into harmony with the tree, the audience shared words describing it. The groups’ contributions were immediate and plentiful:
Record keeping, gentle, strong, gnarled, sturdy, reaching, wavy, symbiotic, starlight, enduring, regal, life giving, stretching, wise, beyond age, resilient joy, stoic, trellis, steadfast, sacred union, starburst, artistic, divine, leaning, ancient, perseverance, helpful, nurturing, God’s grace, guardian, aware, sage, caring, giving, remembering, prickly, enduring, all seeing, grandmother’s hands pledged to serve, starburst, everlasting.
Read out loud with feeling, this list forms a kind of word poem. We were all moved by the appreciation of this tree elder and when the poem ended, people sat for a moment in heartfelt reverence and awe.
Then we had audience members listen for descriptive words spoken by the trees. Once again, a long and robust list of uplifting words spilled forth. But before we read the list back as a poem, we let the group in on a secret: we had spoken with the trees earlier and ask them to give us words about us, humanity. A collective gasp was heard from the audience when they realized they were about to hear about themselves:
Beautiful reciprocity, honor, sheltering, unity, thankful, harmony, beauty, relaxed, joyful, breathe, tingling, humble, playful, smiling, meaningful, loving connection, safe, vibrating, life giving, eccentric, forgiving, accepting, compassion, nurturing, open, easygoing, believe, thankful, safe space, recuperate, music, steady, sanctuary, protection, communion, touching, hopeful, free, round, sail away, trust me, resilient, expansive, limitless, silent, no boundaries, quiet, connection, aware, respectful, peaceful, happy, vibrant, support, embracing, appreciation of you needing our help, unity, love
It was emotional and inspiring to recognize and embrace the way we are seen by the trees and a call to action to live up to it.
We encourage you to read this list aloud and let it sink into your soul.
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TREE ORIENTING February 2023 By Anastasia Sprout
I first heard about “tree orienting” in June of 2022, and guided by my interest and intuition, bought a selfica pendulum from a store in Colorado. At the Fairy-Humans Relations Congress in Oregon in July, I “happened” to show my pendulum to a new friend named Garth, who it turned out lived near the California Redwoods, and had been orienting trees for the previous year. He talked me through the tree orienting protocol, and we set out to orient three trees in the local woods. It was fun, and I felt a kind connection with Garth and the trees we oriented. When I had the opportunity to join the “Messages for the Redwoods Project” later that summer, I jumped at the chance to write and read my letter, and others’ letters, to the majestic trees.
During our time in Stout Grove, I felt a shy nudging to orient my first Redwood, which was a sweet experience. The next day Garth and I strolled through Boy Scout Tree Trail, and I saw a tree that attracted me greatly – again I felt the call to offer an orientation. I learned that we always ask the tree respectfully for permission, and my sense is this one was quite eager. The tree felt male, giant, and profoundly deeply rooted, perhaps unsurprising for a Redwood in this ancient forest. After circling the tree clockwise three times with my pendulum, I had a sense of a great lifting up, up, up, and then a rooting down, down, down. I felt a powerful opening in my crown chakra, so strong it almost hurt, and this lasted for a few days. Saying good-bye to this tree was poignant when it was time to go.
Though I didn’t understand it at the time, I now believe that this experience had a direct causal effect in my finding the place I subsequently moved to…a houseboat on Lovely Lake Union, which fulfilled a personal dream I’d had since 2009. I think the towering, beautiful tree I oriented was thanking me for helping it join the Global Tree Network, by lifting me up, and then “rooting me” in my new home, and “orienting me” to Seattle, where I feel I can be of the highest service. I was open to moving anywhere last summer, and even had put my things in storage in anticipation of moving far away…yet the beloved and wise tree brought me to my new “home” on the lake. I’ve never loved a place more than this houseboat, and I hope I can be gently rocked to sleep at night for the rest of my life.
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MESSAGES FOR THE REDWOODS January 2023
Dear Tree Loving Friends
Thank you for your many messages of love and gratitude for the ancient Redwoods. A few months ago, my Camphor tree whispered an idea to me, “Invite people to write messages to honor the ancient Redwoods trees”. The request was sent via social media and personal mailing lists. I received 72 messages from tree lovers in 6 countries. The messages came in a variety of forms: long messages that read like poetry, short notes of five words, greetings from trees many miles away, song lyrics and an audio spoken in the language of light. All were written from the heart.
My friend Rhonda Richardson and I traveled to Jed Smith State Park in northern California where we met Garth M. Garth has lived among the Redwoods for the past 1 ½ years. We were joined by Garth’s friend Anastasia and her dog, Sparky. Garth has a tree ally he calls Grandfather. Grandfather is one of the Redwood giants and has a burl at his base which is like a seat or “knee”. On Sept 15, 2022 Rhonda, Garth, Anastasia and I gathered with Grandfather to read aloud our messages of gratitude to the Redwoods.
The reading of the messages was full of synchronicities and magic. As we stood around the base of Grandfather, a park ranger named Wonder Heart approached us. Her scheduled nature walk was not going to take place, so we invited her to join us to read the messages. Wonder Heart had a crystal bowl with her which she played for us and gifted us with a beautiful meditation. Together, the five of us opened an energetic container. One by one we sat on Grandfather’s knee and read your messages. Shafts of light illuminated us as we read. The branches of neighboring trees leaned in so that they could also hear the messages. It was a beautiful and moving experience to offer your messages of love and gratitude. In a later meditation connecting to the trees, the trees told Rhonda that our love initiative was “closing the gap” between human and tree consciousness. The trees spoke to me about the importance and power of our group consciousness in strengthening the partnership between tree beings and of humanity for the evolution of the trees, humans, all beings seen and unseen and beloved Gaia.
Many thanks to you, our kindred tree loving humans, Garth, Anastasia, Wonder Heart and all the Tree beings around the world. Special thanks to Grandfather who agreed to work with us and who is energetically continuing to share our messages with trees far and wide through roots and mycelium.
I have attached photos of Grandfather (you can see his knee on the bottom right); a group photo of Anastasia and Sparky, Bev, Rhonda, and Garth; Anastasia reading to Grandfather and Wonder Heart with her crystal bowl.
With Green Regards,
Beverly Templeton
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GIFT OF THE TREES December 2022 By Anne Cederberg
Every year I have a conflict when it comes time to get a Christmas tree. The environmentalist in me cries “no Way”, while another part longs for the smells and feelings that only a live Christmas tree brings.
One year I really wanted a live tree. I tried to come up with alternatives. Artificial tree? No, that wouldn’t do. Live tree in a pot? Little bitty tree? Not those either. I finally came up with a compromise—I would “make” a “real tree from evergreen branches. I didn’t have any evergreens in my yard, and I sure wouldn’t cut off any branches if I did. Where could I find what I needed?
I decided I was going to settle all of this one afternoon. Somehow I would make a tree. I jumped up and went out to get in the car. I was on a mission! I had my hand on the car door when I very clearly heard in my head the words, “Walk down this street a block.” I stopped, totally stunned. What was that? I’m very intuitive but I tend to sense or feel things. I rarely “hear” guidance so clearly. I shut the car door, took a deep breath and said, “OK” to the voice, turned and began walking down the street.
About a block ahead I could see something lying on the sidewalk. My heart leapt. As I moved closer, I got goose bumps. It was large evergreen branch, almost as tall as me! While I was excited, it jolted my reality a bit. This was really happening. Yet I felt that thrill I feel when I know I am connected to Spirit. I gladly picked up the branch and looked around for its probable donor. Sever large fir trees smiled (I swear!) down on me. When I looked at them, I could feel their energy uplifted and happy at my discovery.
As excited as I was, it was only one branch, and I needed more to make a 6-foot tree like-*I wanted. I thanked the trees, became quiet, and “checked in” as to what to do next. Again I heard the voice. I was told to walk toward the corner. “Turn right”, I heard. I did. I walked about 100 feet and stopped. It didn’t feel right to continue. “Now, turn around, “ the voice said. As I began to turn to my left, I looked across the street. A neighbor’s yard and sidewalk were peppered with fir limbs! I would not have seen them had I not turned around. (I think it was a tree’s version of surprising me—kind of like humans do with “Close your eyes…”) I started home, my arms full of branches, stopping to add even more to my heaping pile. I’d thank the trees and see them smile.
Other trees in the area contributed downed limbs to my project that day. I brought them all home, and —I’m still not sure how—built a Christmas Tree! It was so realistic that my partner was convinced I had brought it at a Christmas tree lot.
For many years I would see those firs trees almost every day. When I would remember to, I thanked them. They always smiled.
Anne Cederberg https://ourmysticalnature.wordpress.com/
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Quiet Sits Summer 2022
Would you like to deepen and strengthen your connection to the rest of nature? One of the best ways is to spend quiet time in nature each morning (or as often as you can). I call these “Quiet Sits”. Morning is a really good time because the human energy interference is less. It also creates this time as an intention and a priority in your life. It works better than trying to fit it in later when you may be too tired.
It’s as simple as this: find a place outside, either in your yard, or in a nearby park or natural area. Go there each morning (leave your phone or other distractions at home.)
Find a tree that calls to you and simply sit under it for fifteen minutes or so.
If you go in the morning, watch the day come in. Watch the activity of the birds, the qualities of the lighting. Listen to the natural sounds around you. Watch the leaves move in the breeze. Use your senses to enjoy your spot.
Try to keep you mind focused on being in your special place. If any worries keep racing in your mind, you might want to carry a small notepad and write them down and tell them you will come back to them later.
Fifteen minutes of this special nature time can help carry you through the rest of the day and all it may bring. Just let yourself be nurtured by the energies of nature. Observe the life around you. You may have magical feeling interactions. You may receive messages or inspirations. Give thanks! Let go of any expectations and just be in the moment. Each day will deepen your sense of connection. Each day and each quiet sit will be unique and special to you.
Interpretive Naturalist
blog: ourmysticalnature.wordpress.com
