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Archive for March, 2012

Photo by Pamela Paulsrud

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Photo by Pamela Paulsrud

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Photo by Pamela Paulsrud

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A long time ago, when my life was in turmoil, I found my tree, beside a stream in a city park. Whenever I was troubled, I went to my tree and looked up into it’s branches, knowing that it had been there for centuries, long before the g estates around it had been built. It calmed me and cleared my mind. I loved it in all seasons and it anchored me to earth. Thank you for reminding me :)

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whispers…

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Greetings! I love this sharing!

In our Enchanted Walkabout programs we share the importance of connecting to your tree. Once you have selected and befriended your tree, the energy of this tree will be forever connected to you no matter where you are in the world. Plus your tree can be your Healing Tree especially if you have any aches, pains, stress or discomfort, you can ask your tree to take it away. We have found it is very important to acknowledge and love the tree before asking it to take your pain away. Nearly everytime an adult walks with us, their inner child come out as they see and feel the world through a new set of eyes and heart. The joy returns to them as they see the world of nature through the eyes of a new vision and of the child within. The trees have been waiting a long time for us to come back to them and to see them as living, breathing, loving beings and as a creation of God. Bless your trees. Always Be In Joy!

John Springer

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The Heather Tree

There is a pine tree on the golf course across the road where I live. I remember the day it was planted some 35 years ago. I was 9 years old with a new Golden Retriever puppy and given the grown up responsibly of walking her. I would take her to that tree, and let her off the leash to swim in the river while I climbed up one of the wobbly branches to play and watch her. This is how life flew though my childhood summers…walking to that tree with a romp in my step and a smile in my heart.

Now that I am older with 3 dogs and 3 children,  grown up responsibilities fill my days, the seasons test even the heartiest winter lovers, and some days the walk is a chore. However, a small miracle occurs at that pine tree. I can no longer climb it, and it is much to big to put my arms around;  but instinctively, my hand reaches out to touch the huge trunk. Upon touching, a warm flow of energy goes up my arm to my heart, and I smile quite unintentionally. 

You see, that tree is me.

The once flexible branches, are no longer able to bend on a whim with the wind. Where the outside was once smooth and soft, weathered lines appear on the thickening bark. Yet in the harshest of winters, the roots have been nurtured, growing deep and strong. As the tree grew bigger, it  too took on more responsibility; providing a warm shelter, restful shade, and happiness for the creatures who come in contact with it. If we could see the rings, we would know the inside has not died or changed; it still radiates with pure childlike love.
Peace, Megan

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Contributed by Aga Williams

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signs of spring

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©Chicago Botanic Garden 2012

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©Chicago Botanic Garden 2012

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Contributed by Min Chin Kuo

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Conversations with trees

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Mt. Ascension

Photo by Pamela Paulsrud

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THE TREE

The strange thing is how the tree loves me back.
Rooted–obviously–in one place yet
those tendrils connect–subterraneously–to me.
Bark thick, corrugated, elephant skin
yet penetrable:  witness the tender spot
where inner wood lies exposed.
An animal?  A storm?  A spirit?
Or an example of how an old warrior
can be wounded and survive.

I touch your wound and begin to heal.
I wrap my arms around your fullness and am filled.
I step back, gaze a the whole of your reaching,
stretching until my fingertips brush eternity.
When your heart-shaped leaves rustle
my heart whispers, too.
When they fall upon the earth
I know that I am earth, too.
And when the waning light
turns your bare branches gold,
I’m rich–I own the world.

Maker of tree, sky, earth and me–
How in the world did You make the tree love me?

–Laura Bernstein

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Contributed by Joanna Zdzienicka

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Photo by Pamela Paulsrud

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