Following Nature

When a tree tells me to do something, I follow through.

There is a large tree at the entrance to my oak forest. This tree used to be covered with invasive bittersweet vines, but no more. A few years ago, I cut those vines to the ground and pulled them from the tree. The reason I even knew to do this was because the trees told me. I have learned to listen to the trees, for they know best what is needed on the land.

This area is also where I want to build a new screened-in structure. For two years now I have seen this structure in my head, but it hasn’t seemed the right time to do anything about it. A few weeks ago I heard the trees clearly say they needed to be cleaned up a bit before I worked on the structure. That made sense. [Author’s Note: This piece was written before my Nature Writing Cabin was put in place!]

There are three large pines and three other oaks in this area. They are a mini-society all their own. Each tree helps hold the others up. I know that trees do help each other. I see it all the time on my land.

Under the trees are large piles of dead branches and dead tree trunks. It is a graveyard of white bones, without bark, lying just where they fell. The trees had no one to protect them from the vines.

I was afraid to step into the graveyard, but since the trees specifically told me to help them, I had to do it. I covered myself from head to toe, and wore long rubber gloves so the poison ivy wouldn’t get me. I stepped in and pulled the vines from the trees. I used a mini-chainsaw to get at the thicker vines, then pulled them by hand out of the trees. Each time I released a thick vine, I heard the tree sigh. Space would open up around the tree—and then around me.

I had to watch carefully where I stepped so I didn’t fall. Vines are tricky. They like to wrap around my ankles the same way they wrap around the trees. But I didn’t let them get me. When a tree tells me to do something, I follow through.

After a while, I got to a thicker vine leaning heavily against a big oak. I felt the great oak’s distress as I began to cut through the vine’s stem. Finally, I severed the stem, and the vine fell to the ground. A shockwave of freed energy rushed from the tree and pulsed across my skin

When I first moved to this land, I was intimidated by the amount of work that needed to be done. I couldn’t imagine how I would know which project to tackle first. But as I’ve worked day by day, I’ve realized that the land knows best what is needed. So far, the land has spoken through the trees. But maybe that’s because the trees were in such dire need.

In the future, maybe something else will speak to me. I could imagine birds, for instance, guiding me toward a particular flower. I could collect the flower’s seeds and plant them in other areas. Or maybe a rock would direct me toward an animal’s home in the ground. Maybe someone out there needs help and nature wants to use me to save them.

The healing I have experienced is not a one-way street. Nature helps me and I must help her in return. To do so, I must stay open to whatever voices I hear.

I think I’ve done okay so far, as I have listened to the trees. This has not been difficult because the trees screamed for me to save them. Trees’ voices are not audible. Rather, they speak with energy, creating magnetic fields. Somehow I feel this energy in my body, and my brain translates it into words.

This interaction with trees heals me. I didn’t expect that. I certainly don’t understand it with my intellect. I just participate. I trust that wherever the trees lead me is the right place to go.

This goes for the rest of nature, too. If I am led in a particular direction, I know there’s a reason. I just have to be open and let my mind and body follow where they are led.