'When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily.' – Mary Oliver
Mary Oliver and her lovely swoons to the trees. I too feel saved daily by glimpses or encounters with trees – like sets of grandparents lining the streets, always waving.
Recently, I found myself waiting a long wait in the parking lot of an industrial warehouse. A miserable spot, as you can imagine. The dogs needed air, so we left the car for a bit of a stroll. And came upon a spindly grove of Cyprus and two or three grande dame Scots pines that all hinted at what might have once covered the place before it became a Tile Mart. The dogs tugged me into bits of places I hadn’t thought accessible. Mr. Bojangles (the border collie) kicked up tufts and stirred old pine needles. My mask was off. So the crisp, menthol clean scent of those pines just filled me up. And as we are all so conscious of every breath, I found myself stopping and really breathing and even whispering a little thank you to them.
I’ll leave you with the rest of Mary Oliver’s exquisite poem as I can’t hold a candle to it:
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
Tomorrow is the last day of the Bangkok Biennale (of which this series of posts is a link) so just another quick thank you for reading.
xxB