I Am The Tree. . . .

DSC_1207I Am The Tree. . .

In man’s history, there was a time when his consciousness with Nature melded.  Man did not look upon Nature as object to be observed, outside of himself,  but was at one with it.  It would be saying ‘I am the breath that blows through the trees and wind we am’ and  ‘man is sitting in the shade of the tree that he is.’  Man’s consciousness blended easily with Nature’s because of mutual perspective and love.  It was only when man pursued different paths that his perspective changed and he began to objectify things outside of himself and objectified himself.   It was a long process but he burglarized his own house.    By taking or shaking himself loose from his grounding,  he lost much and man then had to learn to communicate what before was emotional and tactile and needed no spoken language.

Over the years,  in my independent study program,  I wrote much from a depth I barely understood.  As I read over my work of early years and see where the road has taken me,  there is a knowledge inborn that has directed me.  I read now with understanding and have explanations that I did not have the courage nor the vocabulary to explain.  In revisiting a book by Jane Roberts,  like visiting an old friend,  I was prompted to search out the following poem,  written too many years ago to count.  Only to find that its explanation would now be found in a quantum physics book in libraries.  The poem explains my connection with our beautiful planet and the history from which we come.  Pause a moment to pursue it.

I Am The Tree

I am the tree.  My arms are haven for life
nestling in the curvature of my spine.
My leaves filter the sun and allow
cool breath to creatures needing relief
from sun too long hot.

I nourish the ground with leaves falling
and fermenting and present the world
to my constituents with my needles
during the hard cold.  I grace the landscape
and ease tired eyes too long squinting.

I am the stones of the Earth.
Beneath me I protect life finding a home
in the dampness for which they were made.
I carry vestiges of all life in my veins
to be read by eyes destined to see them.

I am the Earth, the planet, housing dreams
designed by man, elusive and real,
fragile yet strong.  I bring forth life
hidden in the conforms of my arms,
spaced in the reality of  mind
and spilling from my heart.

I am the all that is.


4 responses to “I Am The Tree. . . .”

  1. This poem and “there are no words” take me to another place, another reality. I don’t have the words to explain it.

  2. Maria, the words will come and they will be your words and for you the meaning will be clear. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.

  3. e mail from Suzanne. . How glorious that you’ve lived long enough to find that your earlier writings that were once dreams, are now part of science, proving that from the beginning, you were one with All That Is. The others are only just finding out.

  4. Suzanne.. . . and there was no one in my circle to tell. And now the Ethers are carrying the messages anon. . . .Even through floods and moves and 2 cardiac arrests have we sallied forth. . . Thank you for your support and comments. . . . .

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