Treewhispers

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Maureen Squires, a follower of Treewhispers, sent me this lovely note that I’m copying below with her permission.

Hi Pam–the following is an excerpt from my unpublished manuscript My Father’s People. The passage is part of the story of two trips I took to Ireland to find my “roots”–tree imagery?? Use it or not–thought you might enjoy the ritual–try it…Maureen

This morning Aiseling had me read the myth of the Green Man from Caitlin Matthews’ book of Celtic Meditations. She first told me of a man she met yesterday in the garden by the nun’s cemetery at Diseart. He started talking to her about the ancient copper beech tree that covered the garden with its widespread and many protective arms. He told her if you place your left hand on your head while leaning against the tree and rub your stomach in circles with your right hand, the strength of the tree will fill you, somehow transferred. Then my mind wandered a bit to past Celtic stories. Caesar reportedly ordered the burning of the sacred groves of the Celts when he finally defeated them during the Gallic Wars. He seemed to believe the source of the druid’s powers lay in the sacred groves. Could that fear have also grasped Cromwell in his push to denude Ireland of her great oaks and groves, I pondered? Were shipbuilding and charcoal the only motivations? Christianity was long established but the old ways remained a presence especially in the west.

…and yes, I’ll definitely partake in the ritual!

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Photo by Jane Brown

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When I was little, my father made me promise him that I knew
the trees
were not talking to me.
It was all right to talk to them but I must know they were not responding.

Your allegory disintegrated my skin,
truncated the chapters, changed the leaves.

Yes, of course, I yielded
and silently apologized to the Elm.

Language was then only my second language.

I always forget that
the first moment of consciousness is intimacy:
kindred spirits, falling in love, magical mystery moments.

Your version betrayed a collective concern about chance.

Hearing hearsay brought me sorrow and consolation in learning
intimacy is a foreign land where they speak language.

I knew who was taking care of me then
and later wondered if sadness brought on the Dutch Elm Disease.

Last week we had to cut down the god tree,
so we could live.

We had to assassinate Ailanthus,
and stop living in the past.

Should I have just told my father that It had approached me first?

The Tree of Heaven
is now a stump wound,
a keyhole preserved for eavesdropping.

Contributed by Leah Mayers, Chicago, IL

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