It was day three out of four of my ceremonial solo. I had befriended a tree not too far from my campsite that I sat with everyday. She was a beautiful Beech tree whose exposed roots hugged the bank of a creek; their wave-like appearance made it look like she was swimming through the earth. Her multiple trunks shot up from the ground growing up this way and that, creating the vision of a mane of wild flowing hair. Where the roots and the trunk met was a knot the size and shape of a head proportionate to this stunning tree woman. The angle of her face made it look as if she were stretching out to get a drink from the stream, or perhaps to kiss and care for the precious water and rocks beneath her.
Erosion had created a little space underneath her just big enough for me to sit. On this day, I happened to have crawled into this tiny cavern when the rains came. The rain began as a sprinkle, as it had been in the days before, but soon it alternated between a heavy downpour and light summer rain a few times before settling into what was clearly going to be a long steady rainstorm. I was grateful for the shelter my tree friend provided, but it wasn’t long before the discomfort of this space got to be too much. This shelter was on an incline, one that barely seemed noticeable before but that now felt untenable. In order to fit into the tiny space so as to stay dry and not slide down the tiny hill, I had to sit with my knees hugged in tight to my body, my legs and feet straining to keep me in place. As part of my ceremonial solo, I was fasting; I hadn’t eaten in three days. My body felt weak, and so this seemingly easy task of holding myself steady on this tilted piece of earth felt nearly impossible, especially for an indefinite amount of time. My body ached.
I started to think about returning to my campsite. I wouldn’t be much more comfortable there, but at least I could sit with my legs outstretched. As I was about to leave, I heard the tree speak: “don’t leave me!”. I let her words and her tone sink in. “Do trees feel loneliness and abandonment?”, I asked. “Why do you think I have wrapped myself around this tree?”, she replied. An oak stood firmly in her center. “But surely you know everything is connected. We’re never really alone. We cannot be abandoned”. These were messages I had been reminded of throughout my quest thus far, and I was surprised and humbled to have to remind a tree of these truths. “Yes”, she said. “But that can be hard to feel and easy to forget. That’s why we need each other”.
That’s why we need each other…these simple words struck my heart and resonated in my bones. Yes, it is true that I am never alone but rather connected to everything, everywhere, all at once. And it is just as true that it feels impossible to hold onto that reality all of the time, and maybe that’s on purpose. I forget so that I can remember. So that I will give and receive love without taking it for granted. So that I will seek out community, I will know what a gift it is to connect with others and how important it is to reach out, to participate in connection fully.
I know everything is connected, but I need others—my people, my body, my Earth body (nature)—to feel that.