Posted December 21, 2008 at 12:29 (General)
I am in my craft room, my intent is to create, to play, to accomplish nothing in particular.
I hear the high pitch screaming. The moaning, uncontrolable misery. I look out the window behind me. I see it, the city has cut a tree. It wails and cries. The other trees mourn in sychronization, the activity of the birds and squirrels has stopped.
This beautiful tree, a Live Oak, has been stripped. It now stands as an obelisk, no branches, no covering, naked. I sense its humility. It was proud in its existence. I was drawn much like a compulsion to go to the tree and offer comfort. I could not be concerned about my own embarrassement or what a passing stranger might think.
As I got closer to the tree its silent screams grew louder, more piercing. It is hard for me to think that this cannot be heard. The tree, now knowing fear, felt vulnerable. It was threatened by my approach, rightfully so.
I reached out and touched it, it scream, shrill and piercing, sadden the very depths of my soul. It could not understand the "why" of it. It could not understand what it had done in its being to have been torn apart, and yet left to suffer the indignity of not knowing if its life was over. It was concerned what would happen to the life it offered protection to. How now would it protect itself?
The trees around it suffered as well, not knowing what other change might occur and what would happen if they were no longer able to serve their purpose.
I could do nothing, other than send the love from the deepest part of myself. I could not offer it promises or certainty of life. I was helpless. I did what I knew to do and asked the heavens to embrace this tree in light and love, and that it might once more know what it is.
The world is powerful in its presence, alive, living and breathing. I appreciate what if offers me. I am not always so conscious of what was sacrificed for my comfort. Today I appreciate the sacrifice and the life that gave itself over for my comfort.
Hugs,
Sharon Renae
