My husband and I enjoy walking our dogs in a neighborhood lined with large, sprawling, picturesque live oak trees draped with Spanish moss - reminiscent of the Old South. Graceful and majestic, live oak trees are tall, sturdy, and adaptable trees and provide large areas of deep, inviting shade to weary, weather-worn humans seeking a canopy of comfort.
On average, oak trees live about 200 years, but some can live over 1,000 years. It is hard to imagine that such an expansive tree came from a tiny acorn. To think that something so small contains a blueprint of a tree that will surpass the human life span by centuries is astonishing and awe-inspiring. I often ponder how much these living, breathing trees have seen and shared with us about the earth and its history by simply being present with them in my quiet moments.
Just like the tree comes from a small seed, we come from our mothers’ wombs imbued with the same miraculous life force energy as the oaks. We create our own seeds that we plant in the shape of ideas, friendships, and families, that carry forth our energy beyond our limited days on this earth.
As I walk slowly and breathe mindfully, I receive the earthly touch for which I long. I inhale the air and my exhale shares something of myself. My breath flows as I receive again the message to give and to receive. To breathe means to give something back when I receive something. I inhale something which belongs to another and exhale something of myself. I wonder, if human beings would organize more of our interactions as breath, would we be able to allow problems to settle by themselves in a manner of mutual exchange?
I connect with breath as I walk the rowed allee of live oak trees. Being here helps me connect to the fact that I also am only enabled to thrive by means of the light from above, and that whatever is weighing me down will ultimately be taken back by the earth, without a trace of labor.
Trees breathe. They are manifestations of the sky inhaling the earth and the earth being washed over by the sky. When the soil inhales sun and air, trees grow. If you observed a forest over a long period of time, you could see its different patches rhythmically swell and decay, like an ocean, the respiration of its waves changing the shores.
Trees are breath and so am I. I arrive here among the oaks when I long for the earthly touch of breath, exchange, growth, and transformation.
Love & light
Jeanne and John