As a tree biologist, I spend many weeks following autumn in our forests. As a life-long serious walker, I agree with you about the need to celebrate autumn with an hour of undistracted walking.
Thank you, Tom. Weeks of following autumn through the forest make my hour look like a small beginning, and I would be glad to hear what tells you the turning has arrived before the color shows.
I love these four movements. Thank you, Jeffrey. Here is my one being and reflection:
I RECEIVE one Red Alder who drew me to her with her NE-SW clumps of thin sprouts at my neck height. Why this growth form? Was she damaged here, her single limbs broken off? How long ago? She is close to the tallest alder in this grove. Her pale bark in inhabited by many pale lichens and a few mosses, creating a map on her trunk. A map of her life? Her leafy branches begin very high up, seeking the light. Her trunk is quite straight, but for one crook where the leafy branches start. Some of the lichens are splayed flat against her bark, looking like many-branched seaweeds (see photo). Others are relief, while others are circular.
I PONDER what she has to offer. She offers herself to the lichens and mosses growing up her, to insects I cannot see, to birds I hear nearby - nuthatches, woodpeckers, kinglets - to squirrels and raccoons who may climb her for safety or sustenance. She offers herself to all who come to her.
Who and what do I offer myself to? To friends and family, Patrons, coworkers. How do I offer myself to this Red Alder being, to the forest, the island? I offer her my admiration, my witnessing of her unusual growth form, my touch, my kinship. We both live on this island, offer ourselves in different ways. I admire her rootedness, her stability, her flexibility and resilience in storms, her calm. I have these qualities, too.
I BELONG here, with her, in this moment. I, like she, am of this island community, with our similarities and differences. She gives me oxygen, I give her carbon dioxide.
I RESPOND with gentle touch, sharing my practice with others, a small gift of oats scattered in her multi-branched crooks.
Thank you, Beth, for taking the 4 movements to your Red Alder and writing them out so fully. I was glad you left your questions about her open, since how long ago and what happened may be hers to keep. The lichen map on her bark and the oats in her crooks will stay with me for a while. Who else on your island has been inviting you into relationship this season?
What a delightful suggestion. I was particularly interested in your discussion about why you mark this time on a fixed date - that makes perfect sense. These days, I mark the cycles of the year in my journal, noting the time and azimuth of sunrise and sunset each day here where I live. It's another way of connecting here, to this place. So Saturday I will take a walk to mark the turning of the year and I will let you know how it goes.
As a tree biologist, I spend many weeks following autumn in our forests. As a life-long serious walker, I agree with you about the need to celebrate autumn with an hour of undistracted walking.
Thank you, Tom. Weeks of following autumn through the forest make my hour look like a small beginning, and I would be glad to hear what tells you the turning has arrived before the color shows.
I love these four movements. Thank you, Jeffrey. Here is my one being and reflection:
I RECEIVE one Red Alder who drew me to her with her NE-SW clumps of thin sprouts at my neck height. Why this growth form? Was she damaged here, her single limbs broken off? How long ago? She is close to the tallest alder in this grove. Her pale bark in inhabited by many pale lichens and a few mosses, creating a map on her trunk. A map of her life? Her leafy branches begin very high up, seeking the light. Her trunk is quite straight, but for one crook where the leafy branches start. Some of the lichens are splayed flat against her bark, looking like many-branched seaweeds (see photo). Others are relief, while others are circular.
I PONDER what she has to offer. She offers herself to the lichens and mosses growing up her, to insects I cannot see, to birds I hear nearby - nuthatches, woodpeckers, kinglets - to squirrels and raccoons who may climb her for safety or sustenance. She offers herself to all who come to her.
Who and what do I offer myself to? To friends and family, Patrons, coworkers. How do I offer myself to this Red Alder being, to the forest, the island? I offer her my admiration, my witnessing of her unusual growth form, my touch, my kinship. We both live on this island, offer ourselves in different ways. I admire her rootedness, her stability, her flexibility and resilience in storms, her calm. I have these qualities, too.
I BELONG here, with her, in this moment. I, like she, am of this island community, with our similarities and differences. She gives me oxygen, I give her carbon dioxide.
I RESPOND with gentle touch, sharing my practice with others, a small gift of oats scattered in her multi-branched crooks.
Thank you, Beth, for taking the 4 movements to your Red Alder and writing them out so fully. I was glad you left your questions about her open, since how long ago and what happened may be hers to keep. The lichen map on her bark and the oats in her crooks will stay with me for a while. Who else on your island has been inviting you into relationship this season?
What a delightful suggestion. I was particularly interested in your discussion about why you mark this time on a fixed date - that makes perfect sense. These days, I mark the cycles of the year in my journal, noting the time and azimuth of sunrise and sunset each day here where I live. It's another way of connecting here, to this place. So Saturday I will take a walk to mark the turning of the year and I will let you know how it goes.
You will have this week's turning in ink, Ann, down to the day the sunrise crosses due east.
I would be glad to hear how Saturday goes, and what the walk adds to what the journal already knows.