Forests have become full of portals here this year, like nothing seen in my 50ish years. Trees are carrying big snows of early season well into mid winter, creating archways, entry points, portals… thresholds.
A rare sight.
All these doorways, beckoning.
Bowing in reverence amongst the elders, younger trees bridge the earth from root to tip. Heavy with snow frozen in place, we wonder if they will stand straight again after months of flexing toward Earth. Nodding at Winter’s hold.
Waiting for change.
“They look lazy”
Or maybe they’re just oppressed?!?
A very different distinction.
Logically, yes, it’s the snow, the crystalline water, that pushes them down.
Spiritually, perhaps it’s the weight of the world that has them looking like slouches.
Tired of trying to stand tall while the poles shift, losing direction, pointing down instead of spiralling up. Being pulled or pushed, frozen in a winter hunch. A slumber of patience.
Are they showing us how we look on the inside? Mirroring our depleted hope? Trees see us. Feeling seen helps us heal. Trees witnessing the load has lessened mine, we are not alone.
Like comrades in an invisible battle they somehow bolster us with their truth.
Life gets heavy sometimes.
It changes us. It shapes us.
And what may look like loafing around is actually the humbling effort of surrender. Being reshaped into something rarely witnessed…like Trees kissing Earth.
A communion intimate and holy. Sharing information.
A symphony of mycelial deep tones and conifer tip soprano notes create music for each passage. Each doorway. Each new beginning.
Trees know more than we do.
They are literally showing us how to bend, not break.
Stretching into unorthodox shapes, they adapt. Not knowing the outcome, they live. Shifting perspective, they stretch. Offering all to Earth, they are One.
Arching in ritual, they beckon…
“Be soft, supple, strange, and new.
Choose which doorways are best for you.
Open hearts hold the clue.
Decisions made in moments true.”
By Irene Rutherford
Jan 7, 2025