If trees could talk, p.19
If Trees Could Talk, page 19
This takes time, this takes space. And this is why my message is to remind you to give yourself space — alone time, self-care time — in which you can be quiet and be still, and relax and receive and connect. Give yourself permission to give yourself space. Give yourself permission to give yourself time. Give yourself permission to be still.
You may feel that stillness time is lost time — wasted time — because you are not being productive. On the contrary, stillness time is every bit as productive as doing time. Give yourself permission to slow down, and be still, and make space.
You may feel restless, you may want to move, you may want to get going onto your next thing. So, allow yourself to ease into this practice of being still and giving yourself space, and see if you can change your perspective. See if you can change your perspective so that you see stillness time as productive time, or whatever word you need it to be — valuable time, worthy time, useful time. Use whatever word you need to fully appreciate the value of this time and space that you give yourself.
It is important to give yourself time and space without sensory input, so you may think of doing a guided meditation, and while these are good, it is also good to be still without this type of auditory input. You may find it useful to do sensory deprivation activities such as a floatation tank, a place where you can go in silence, in peace, in darkness, and just rest and relax and just be. There are many ways that you can do this. You can simply meditate in the dark and silence at home. Whatever feels right for you. We encourage you to be still in all your senses, not just movement, but to be in silence and stillness and darkness — this will help you connect to yourself, your higher self, your inner compass, and it will open you up to new ways of being.
That is all.
I’ve always been the kind of person that needs a lot of alone time. I have an extensive morning routine where I do my inner work: I work on the lessons from my druid training course and I perform my sacred grove exercise. I journal, I do gratitude work, and I read whatever book I’m in the middle of. I do my mindset work to clear fears, blocks, and limiting beliefs. It looks a bit different every morning, but I have a set of activities that I choose from based on whatever it is that I feel I need on any given day. If I forego my morning routine for whatever reason, my day will feel a bit off and it will be harder for me to concentrate on my work. If I miss it for a number of days in a row, either because I’m traveling or not feeling well or because I’m busy with morning meetings, I feel very unsettled.
Giving myself the time and space to be alone and do my inner work helps me to feel grounded and connected with myself. It’s helped me to get to know myself better and get aligned with creating the life I want to live. It’s what helps me to be productive and get things done throughout the rest of the day — and yet I often feel guilty for setting aside so much time for myself.
However, I am still very much aware that my morning routine is what the oak called “doing” time. I’m very active during this part of the day: I’m not actually sitting still in meditation, silencing my mind and letting go of thoughts — I’m always doing something. Sitting in stillness is actually something that I find it a bit difficult to do, ven though it does form a brief part of my sacred grove exercise. I always feel like I need to take advantage of the time I have to do, do, do… something.
That’s why it was so challenging for me when I channeled my Heart-centered Energy Work® process a couple of years ago: as I mentioned earlier, I literally had to sit in silence and wait to receive it, step by step, without knowing what was coming next. It was a true test of my self-trust. But I never would have received the process if I hadn’t made the time and space to be still. In this case, being still was absolutely productive because it allowed the process to come through. In fact, I had been waiting for the process for a couple of months by that point, and the only thing that had been holding me back was the fact that I wasn’t making time for stillness.
How about you? Do you find it easy to sit in stillness, or is it a challenge? If so, what are some ways you could add a bit of stillness to your life, even if it’s just a few minutes? When would be a good time of day to do this? Remember, it doesn’t have to be in the morning. In fact, some people have a shorter routine that they observe in both the morning and evening.
Do you make self-care a priority? What kinds of things help you to feel like you’re caring for yourself? Reading a book? Taking a bath? Sitting in the garden? Do you get enough self-care time in your life? If not, when could you add a bit of self-care to your life, even if it’s just a few minutes?
27
Wolvens Lane Beech
This beech tree is located right off a byway in the Wotton Estate in the Surrey Hills, on one of my favorite walking routes. The beech first reached out to me early in the year, not long after I was first given the idea for this project. I was planning a circular walk near Dorking that passed by a sacred well and a lush waterfall, and this tree reached out to me with the usual words: “I’m in your book.” I kept it in the back of my mind, passing it many times on my walks throughout the year, and I finally returned to collect its story at the end of November, just after receiving the stories of the previous two trees.
Despite this beech being present in the back of my mind all year, I’m sorry to say that this tree’s story almost got lost in my files — not once, but twice. I was going through photos from the trees that I had taken throughout the year, and I came across one that I didn’t recognize. I could see that the date was the same as the Railway Oak and the Beare Green Oak, which meant that it was taken when I was out collecting the last two stories for this book. At once, it came to me: it was the Wolvens Lane Beech. I went through my files, found my recording of its message, and sent it off to be transcribed. The second time this chapter got lost was when I compiled the document for export, and somehow the chapter didn’t make it into the file. After going through my final review of this book, I realized something was missing: once again, it was the Wolvens Lane Beech.
This tree is located right off to the side of Wolvens Lane, which is a byway open to all traffic that stretches from the village of Wotton in the north to Coldharbour in the south. This beech sits on a fairly quiet part of the trail, at a crossroads where a footpath heads down towards Simon’s Copse and Broadmoor. On the day I went to receive the beech’s story, I parked near Broadmoor and walked up the hill toward the beech. Because I had never walked the trail in this direction, I wasn’t fully sure I was in the right place. It all looked very different from this angle.
When I reached Wolvens Lane, I could see I had arrived at the exact point I had intended, and I walked around the beech, greeting it, before I settled in at its base. I felt very exposed, since I was sitting right on the side of a very wide trail, at a crossroads where people could approach from four different directions. It was certainly not the most private of places to receive a tree’s story, but it was a weekday afternoon, and I hoped it would be quiet. Just seconds later, I heard voices as three people came walking up the same trail that I had. I pulled out my bottle of water and had a drink as I waited for them to pass. They crossed the byway and headed straight on down the trail. When I was positive they were out of earshot, I pulled out my phone and began to record the beech’s story:
I would say I am surprised to see you. And yet, I knew I would see you again, and that you would come back to collect my story. You have walked by me many times since the first time I told you that I would be in your book, and that I had a story for you. And it is not by accident that you have returned to me near the end of the year, after receiving so many other tree stories.
Many of the trees have been talking to you about slowing down, sitting, being still. This is all sound advice. And yet, I am here to talk to you about the journey. For this book has been a journey. It has been a journey for you as the collector of stories, and it is has been a journey for you as the reader of the stories. And it has been a journey for me and for all the trees. So I am here to remind you, at risk of sounding hmm… cliché, that life is a journey, that everything is a journey.
I know that the previous trees have spoken to you of things taking time and this is true, and we know that this can be frustrating to you. I encourage you to see life as a journey and everything as a journey: a journey of personal development, a journey of achieving your goals, a journey of working towards your dreams. So often you people focus on the end result, so often you focus on what you will get at the end of the journey. I am here to remind you to focus on the path, to focus on the trail, to focus on all the little bits in between.
It should be easy for you to understand this because when you go on your walks, the focus of the walk is not getting to the end: it is enjoying the path, it is enjoying the journey, it is enjoying the experience of the walk. So, why then can you not apply this to your life? To the rest of your life? To all the other things that you do?
I am going to say the words that you have heard so many times this year: slow down. Slow down and experience the path; slow down and experience the journey; slow down and experience the freedom of each step as it takes you forward. Or backwards. Or sideways. Or wherever you are going. Truly experience the path, truly experience each day, truly experience the process of getting from where you are to where you want to be. And be open to the fact that the destination may change. It may change once, it may change twice, it may change many, many times, along your path, along your journey. And this is fine. This is good, this is desirable.
It is desirable that you should be flexible, to flow with the changes of life. And yet that is not possible if you are only fixated on the end. And so I encourage you to focus instead on each single step. Each step on the way, each step on the path, each step on the journey. Take your steps one by one.
Focus on each step. Experience each step. Relish each step. Live each step.
Rather than seeing these steps as the necessary bother of getting from here to there, relish them as the main dish, the main course, the main part of your experience.
You have seen, when you go on your longer walking journeys, that when you get to the end, it is not what you expected: it is not what you hoped for, there are no fireworks and parties and celebrations. Yes, of course you can have your own personal celebration and perhaps you should, if you want to.
But on your longer walks you have seen that each step of the way, each day of the trail, is the core part of the experience, it is the main course, and you can apply that concept to the rest of your life. Each step of the way being the main course of your life, and not the end, not the destination, because your life will be full of destinations. It is all a path of cycles and returns. So it is vital that you enjoy each step of the way. Relish it.
You may be wondering: that sounds so easy, how do I do that?
It can take time out of each day, in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening. In the morning and evening would be good, or perhaps just once a day, to do a daily review. What did you experience that day? What path were you walking? What actions did you take? How did you feel? What did you do? How did the steps that you took today contribute to your path, to your journey, to your experience of life?
You can spend some time reflecting or you can write them down in your journal, but do this once a day, whenever you feel is best. You could do it in the morning, reflecting on the previous day. You can do it in the afternoon, reflecting on the previous 24 hours. You can do it in the evening, reflecting on all the events that have occurred in your waking hours.
But focus on those steps, write them down in your journal, reflect on them. Focus on the steps that you took on your life’s path, today. What they gave you, what they did for you, and how you felt about them and how they contributed to your overall journey.
Try this, and see how things change for you. Pay attention to the changes. Pay attention to how you feel differently. Pay attention to how you experience life differently.
Thank you. That is all.
Oh, these trees knew me so well! I have the tendency to be so impatient: I set very clear goals for myself, I plan the steps I need to take to achieve those goals, and then I get very impatient about getting to the end result. I want the outcome now, and I rarely take the time to enjoy the journey of getting from here to there. And yet, so many of life’s lessons are learned throughout the journey, and not upon achieving the end goal.
The Wolvens Lane Beech gave me the perfect example: my long-distance walks. The pleasure of walking, say, one hundred miles along the South Downs Way from Winchester to Eastbourne is not in arriving at the little snack bar at the end of the trail. It’s in the process of walking the entire trail: the people I meet, the things I see, the challenge of walking day after day for an entire week. Somehow, I manage to forget this in my day to day life.
And the pleasure of writing this book was not in finishing the final draft so I could send it to my editor and eventually wrap up the project. It was in going out on my walks, in having the trees reach out to me and let me know they were in the book, and in eventually collecting their messages and putting them together to share with others. The pleasure was in the process: in the adventure and the discovery.
I get so frustrated when things don’t work out as I planned, or when things don’t go my way. I blame myself: what did I do wrong? What could I have done differently? What else should I be doing? Rather than welcoming the lessons, I criticize myself for not getting things right on the first try. And then I pick myself up, make some adjustments, and carry on.
The past decade of my life, ever since I left my first business, has been about making adjustments. I’ve done a massive amount of healing and personal development work, including hours and hours of mindset work with myself. I’ve released fears and blocks, and I’ve transformed my beliefs. Step by step, it’s helped me to peel off layers of myself that weren’t really me. Little by little, I’ve been working on removing the masks and getting back to the core of myself — my true self.
It’s been a journey, and because I don’t really know what’s at the very core, I’ve been able to take it step by step. Sometimes, when we don’t know what the end goal or the end result is, it makes it easier to enjoy the path to get there. Deep down, I know there’s a part of me that knows what my true self is, but I’m not consciously aware of that: I’m still discovering it bit by bit. And with every layer that I peel off, it’s exciting to see what’s underneath. It’s kind of like walking a path that spirals toward the center of myself. And of all the paths I’ve walked, this is the most satisfying of them all.
What about you? Do you find it easy to focus on the journey, or are you so focused on the end result that you forget to enjoy the path to get there? What can you do to truly relish each step of your journey? What can you do to enjoy each step on your path to achieve your goals?
How do you feel about doing a daily review where you write about your day? How do you think that might change your life? When would be a good time to do this?
28
Newlands Corner Yew
I knew instinctively that the final tree in this book would be the very first tree, and that the stories of trees would come full circle when I revisited the very yew that had given me the idea for this book in the first place. It was December 21st — the winter solstice — and it had been almost a full year since I had first met the yew. I was fairly confident that he would be easy to find, but I ended up wandering around Newlands Corner for over an hour before I eventually discovered the exact grove where he was located. It had been winter when I first saw him, and it was winter once again, but somehow everything looked different.
It was a beautiful clear day, but it had been raining all week, and the trails were muddy. I tried to retrace the steps I had taken with the group when I went on the forest bathing Meetup, but I soon realized I had lost track of where I was in relation to the yew grove. We had made so many stops on the Meetup to focus on the smaller details of the forest, and I had failed to take in the bigger picture of the woods. Eventually, I crossed all the way over to a point that appeared to be where we had exited the woods to end up on the grassy hillside. From there, I turned around and tried to retrace my steps to the yew grove. And that’s when I found him.
It was darker within the grove, despite it being a sunny afternoon. The woodland floor was carpeted with russet leaves from the deciduous trees in the forest. As soon as I entered the grove, I instantly recognized the ancient yew tree and I hurried across to greet him. It was like seeing an old friend. He had sent me on a mission to write this book, and I had learned so much. I was so grateful for having been given this idea and this opportunity, and I wanted him to get a sense of just how much it had changed me.
The yew stood straight and tall, with a second yew right next to him. Rather than standing next to him as I had first done when I met him, I circled around him and his companion yew before settling in to sit at the base of his trunk. I felt a great sense of friendship for this yew, despite only having seen him once before in my life. It was in part due to my sense of gratitude for being given this project, but it was also a result of how my relationship with trees, in general, had changed over the course of the year: I now saw them as specific individuals of a community, each with their own personality and spirit. I knew them as I knew the different people in my life.
