A cartoon
A thought
Sylvan wisdom for today.
I’ve recently finished The Treeline - The Last Forest and the Future of Life on Earth by Ben Rawlence.
It is a slow, beautiful meander through the forests of the Arctic Circle, meeting the trees, creatures and the people who live with them. Reading Treeline is a profoundly melancholy experience. There is a deep, reflective sadness that is intertwined with beauty and awe.
The journey starts with the very large, very old Yew trees, behind Ben’s house in Wales. They sit on a mound near an old church. “A shy green old man” and a slightly smaller female with beautiful red berries. He does not know how old the pair is. There is no upper age limit for Yew trees. They can stop growing and stand paused indefinitely. Theoretically, a single yew could regenerate itself forever. This is one of the things that made the Yew sacred to the Celts; they worshipped the trees for this god-like immortality. The churchyard is circular, an indicator of a pre-Christian sacred site, suggesting the trees could be thousands of years old. Ben describes them as “refugees from a different era”, reminding us of the broad arc of time.
He says, now, trees offer both comfort and warning. Humans have so messed with the natural systems and balance that “millenia have become moments”. The past and the future collide; “time has become slippery”. He says looking at trees has given him a way to look at the landscape outside of time - where trees are, where they were, where they should be.
It is one of the most beautifully powerful books I have read this year.
It has me looking at the landscape I call home and wondering about the arc of time and the trees here. In the Leah Rampy interview (that inspired the Mobius strip Meditation), Leah asked if you have a tree friend. It occurred to me that I have looked at trees as beautiful, magnificent things but never as a friend.
On my next walk, I set about looking for a special tree that would be my friend. On my way back to the house I found them. A horizontal eucalypt with silvery grey-green leaves. They had been toppled by a high wind in the last few years but not killed. Along the trunk are seven new vertical stems pushing to the sky. This means I can sit in the old canopy of the tree at ground level, an arboreal cave. I tucked myself quietly into the small hole in the leaves and sat on the trunk. I introduced myself and sat quietly. In the stillness, I could see that I was not the only creature to call this tree, friend. I could see at least four different sorts of insect eggs on the leaves, trails of ants exploring and feeding on said eggs, small birds flitting in and out of the leaves and the bark on which I sat was smoothed by the paws and bellies of kangaroos and wallabies passing over the fallen trunk.
When I finally got up to leave I was surprisingly emotional.
I have a tree friend.
Do you have a tree friend?
Glimmers and sparks*
My glimmers for today are:
Welcome Swallows swooping at dawn - they never fail to lift my heart.
Brewed chai tea before heading off to work.
A flock of Australian White Ibis passing overhead - they look so beautiful in flight. Aussies know these often bedraggled-looking birds who ferret out snacks from rubbish bins, as Bin Chickens. They are great at adaptation having taken well to urban environments, but in their loose V formation overhead, in an open sky this morning they looked majestic.
Li’l bean is your reminder to pause and ask: What are your glimmers for today?
From your friend and your small, steadfast companion,
*Drawing Li’l Bean helped me navigate out of a period of depression in 2023. A good friend 13, 595km away, helped, too, through a ritual of swapping daily glimmers via text.
A glimmer is a tiny spark of hope, enthusiasm or joy that lifts your heart. By helping me find three glimmers each day, she gently helped me see the joy and beauty already around me.
I’d like to share this practice with you and invite you to reflect on your glimmers for the day when you read this. Think of Li’l Bean as a reminder to notice the glimmers and sparks in your life. We’d love it if you would like to share your glimmers in the comments or by hitting reply (if you don’t like sharing publicly).
Every morning I do my tai chi practice in a small circle of 5 casuarinas and two towering gums, they are my friends. I always greet and thank them.
Lovely post and photos Gill 🙏
Beautiful, I have a tree friend a big Beech tree I can see from my house. It was planted over a hundred years ago in memory of Gideon Webber , who fell from the roof of the barn that became our house. So very special in many ways, I often touch and talk to it , learn from its balance as I do my yoga practice. Last night the rooks were dancing in swirls around it, so wonderful to watch.