Last week, I returned to the rolling hills in California after six years away. This time, I’m north of the Bay instead of east. As I began my hike up the local mountain, my heart swelled walking amongst the majestic live and blue oaks on the first ascent.
Trees have been a constant companion during the biggest changes in my life.They are the first thing I notice when I go somewhere new. I think we can all relate to trees – their sturdiness, the protection they offer, their beauty and remarkable resilience. They are masters of the death and rebirth process. They connect down through the earth and stretch up toward the sky depicting grounding and inspiration all at once.
Like many people in their mid-50s, I have a number of life transitions under my belt. Trees have supported me through them all. I moved 2,000 miles across the United States in my late twenties, switched careers, married, became a mom, moved to Europe, returned to the US via the Pacific Northwest, divorced, and now, find myself amongst these majestic California Oaks again.
The oak, cypress, eucalyptus, olive and chestnut trees supported me when I was at a crossroads in my life and walked Spain’s Camino de Santiago de Compestella to signify my career change. The eucalyptus trees in Tilden Regional Park in Berkeley were a godsend when I was in graduate school and the program required a lot of T-groups and family systems theory. Nothing like the smell of eucalplytus to help you through individuation. Further east, the Pleasanton Ridge offered me a place of refuge from the demands of raising children and being a working mom. Not to mention the countless walk-and-talks I had with friends amongst the bay laurels and oaks.
The conifers in the local forests 10 miles outside Zürich near our home and the mountain and spruce pines in the Alps were comforting as I processed and grieved the changing of my marriage. They provided protection from the literal and metaphorical elements – escaping the sun on hot days and also a place for me to scream alone when I was frustrated and confused.
The red cedars and big leaf maples on the little Island we moved to in the Pacific Northwest to help our sons transition back to the USA are ubiquitous. It’s an island full of trees and I struggled with their density — looking for the crack that would let the light in.
Sometimes, the healthiest thing you can do is let go and find new trees. It takes boldness to release that which no longer expresses the highest version of who you are and it takes courage to find new trees to support you in who you are becoming. May we all find new trees when we need them.
Love and light,
Ellen
This is a poem by David Wagoner that really speaks to our connection to the earth. I believe Earth (Nature) is one of the portals we have here on earth to God, Divine, Source.
It’s a particularly tough time in the world right now. We are all still recovering from two years of the pandemic and easing into our daily routines again. Many of the old structures and ways have been dismantled causing change and confusion. We need these old structures and those who lead them to change. So, while this is positive — it is a transitory and unsure time.
This poem offers a beautifully simple solution for when you feel lost or disconnected. An openness to being present with what is around you through breath and awareness of nature around you.
There are many things around us that are direct portals or sources to the Divine. But, other examples are poetry, animals, and music (especially classical).
Lost
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
— David Wagoner
The solar eclipse on Monday, August 21st, was a much-needed surprise for many of us. That morning, I facilitated a meeting with an executive team. We planned a morning break to view the eclipse. Our group walked nearby to the local library and stood among necks of all ages and colors, craned toward the sky. We shared protective glasses and helpful photography tips to capture one of nature’s most epic events.
Mother Nature has been the single greatest healer and inspiration to me in my life. She has been critical to Living my Jam because there’s nothing more conducive to intuitive thinking than alone time outdoors. I love being outside and walking through the trees. I began hiking years ago and have hiked all over the world. I’m incredibly fortunate to live in an area that has many beautiful state and local parks. My greatest pleasure is walking alone in nature because it’s the quiet of nature that allows me to slow down and access my highest-self. We all need a practice that slows us down and brings us closer to ourselves. These practices are conduits that help us access ourselves and our true inner knowing. From here, we can Discover our Jam, Live our Jam and Spread our Jam.
