Lessons from the trees

In my circle in East Hartford this past month, we did a ceremony for trees. I have learned so much from trees. The tall pine trees outside my childhood home were some of my first friends.

I could go on and on sharing all the teachings I have received from the tree people--I won't do that! But there is one I would like to share in particular.

I learned from the trees on the land where I teach that trees don't have an opportunity to choose their neighbors. Their community is wherever they are planted. They don't get to move if they don't get along with their community. Instead, they make community wherever they are.

This teaching came from the trees last year, but it was pointed out to me again at this past month's journey circle. It gave me pause, as I have been experiencing distress around the amount of polarization in our communities and the amount of emotion in the air. The trees reminded me that we have a certain amount of control, yes, but that control is to find our community where we are planted. It made me so grateful for our circle, and for the other circles of which I am a member--shamanic and otherwise.

Shamanism is not a solitary pursuit--we exist in community. I am thankful for my community of humans, my community in nature, and the spirits who, in their great generosity, continue to support us as we stumble down our own paths.

The Pine Barrens

Beginning to move

This is a picture I took last year, after an icing event. I rounded the corner (on skis) and found myself in a crystal palace of trees--it was such a remarkable scene that it took by breath away. I had to stop and take a picture of the sun glinting off of the branches. The picture, of course, could not fully capture the beauty of the scene before me.

This is the time of year when the trees begin to wake up. Long before we see leaves begin to bud on their branches, their sap begins to run, below where we can see. Isn't this the way that waking up so often happens for us? We don't see visible signs of change, but we feel something in us begin to shift.

Do you feel yourself waking up? Does the sense of slowing down begin to give way to something new? I find that it does for me this time of year. The days are slightly longer, there is a bit more electricity in the air, there is more movement in my soul. I feel a desire to take up projects that were set aside in the fall, or perhaps new ones that have been brewing during the deepest part of winter.

In my circle in East Hartford this month, we will do a ceremony with and for trees. I don't know exactly what shape it will take, but I hope you will join me if you're nearby.

See if you can notice how nature moves you. Seasons are a blessing, because they allow us to flow with the cycles that are present in the world around us. What feels like it is beginning to flow for you?

Rising above the clouds

Happy New Year! As many of you know, I am a part-time ski instructor, and have been for 25 years. In the snow sports world, warmth and rain are dreaded--they reduce our snow cover

(and our visibility), and create challenging days out on the slopes. I happened to teach on just such a rainy day this past weekend. The mountain was shrouded in clouds, and my 5-year-old students had a great time seeing if they could taste the fog (they determined that it did not have a taste).

I took this picture from the top of the mountain. I have many pictures from this spot, often on clear days when we can see the top Mount Washington (just under 100 miles away). But this view from above the clouds took my breath away, with the tops of smaller mountains just peaking out from the cloud cover,

As I look at it now, it reminds me that there is light above the clouds. It also reminds me of journeying--how we see something new, and beautiful, and often unexpected. It's amazing to me how much more clearly we can see the patterns of light when light has the clouds to play with. It shows how the interplay of different forces in nature brings out the beauty in each other. The interrelatedness of light and shadow, clouds and clear sky, all of them bringing out different emotions in those of us who perceive their dance.

This is a time of year when many people feel overwhelmed by the darkness. This overwhelm is also a side effect for many of us who read the news, becoming more and more consumed by what concerns us (and our concern is certainly warranted--it is an expression of our compassion, and without compassion we have no chance of being effective in shamanic work).

But don't forget to look up--is there light among the clouds? Remember that darkness and light are a dance. Without one, we cannot understand the other.