This isn’t an essay or a travel post, but my response to a writing prompt. I write every day - for 15 minutes to an hour depending on my mood, my schedule, or my level of inspiration. I believe Anne Lamott’s words are - put your butt in the chair and just write. So I try to do this. Sometimes it’s just free flow stream of consciousness (Morning Pages from the Artist’s Way type of thinking), sometimes it’s just writing about my day the day before, sometimes it’s poetry, oftentimes it is a writing prompt, and ALWAYS it’s about gratitude. This practice has changed my life. It has helped me to navigate challenging times, to reflect upon my life and the world around me, and it has helped me to embrace what is and to live in the NOW. Today’s writing prompt (from Suleika Jaouad - The Isolation Journals on Substack) was to write about a piece of art you could read, watch, view, or listen to a billion times - something that makes you shimmer inside, that makes you want to move, and with childlike wonder, play peek a boo.
This one came to me immediately - it’s Amanda Palmer’s reading of When I am Among the Trees (Mary Oliver). I listened to that once when I was in Stinson Beach on an alonecation - just a couple of days tacked onto a work trip where I spent the weekend falling deeper in love with northern California, spending time alone hiking, reading, writing, and listening to the waves crash on the beach. I stayed in a simple little airbnb with the ocean in front of me and the mountains behind me. I woke up to the smells of California - I had left my sliding door gently cracked. I could feel the wet blanket of the California fog seeping into the house, gently waking me up with its damp smell. The light was just coming over the mountains behind me. I found myself scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and somehow this poetry reading popped onto my screen.
There’s something about Amanda Palmer’s voice that sings to me. Just sings. As I woke up and listened to that poem and planned my day ahead which would include, of course, being among the trees… I gently smiled and took a deep breath. The slowing. The breathing. It’s what my mind and body were aching for. Reaching for. Begging for. And in that moment I was oh so grateful for the sound of her words, for Mary Oliver’s spirit pulsing through them, for that simple poem that makes me think of prayer.
As I read the writing prompt this morning, I immediately went to Sound Cloud to listen again. ahhhhh
“I would almost say that they save me, and daily. “ “Walk slowly and bow often.” “To go easy”. “To be filled with light, and to shine”. Every single line of this poem is magical.
When I Am Among the Trees
by Mary Oliver
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.
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.”
My favorite part…. And daily. (They save me, and daily)
These 20 lines are just absolutely brilliant in their simplicity and wonder and joy…and…. Reverence. That is the word that rolls off my tongue. It reminds me of church. Of shavasana. Of rest. The light flowing from their branches. I can picture myself in the middle of the redwoods with my arms encircling a trunk of a tree as I stand in the middle of their “circle”. I love how they grow in circles. Go easy, be filled with light, shine. How do we go easy? How do we not hurry through the world (when it moves faster and faster all the time)? How do we walk slowly? bow often? and be.right.there?
Such hints of gladness. I want to dissect every single word of this poem. I want to commit it to memory
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.
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.”
I love the idea of the trees talking to me - telling me to go slowly, to absorb the light, to BE the light, to fill up with the light…. AND DAILY. To not hurry, but amble. To stay awhile. To rest. To breathe. To be. To not control. To just be. Walk slowly. Bow often. Namo, Namo. It’s SIMPLE, they say.
Just shine. Just shine. I think about that impossible self that doesn’t hurry - the one that just takes in the honey locust, the pine, the beech, the oaks… I think of gently touching their trunks with tenderness, smelling their leaves in my hands and crunching them under my feet (depending on the season). I imagine myself basking in their shade with hints of sunshine dripping through. Trees. They are just glorious. The giant civil war era oak outside my window from my neighbor’s yard, the trees of all shapes, sizes, and shades of green across the street at the park. The interesting cedar like trees through my bedroom window. My life is abundant with trees. Abundant with nearly everything, in fact. For that, I bow often, and daily. The peek a boo that can be played amongst the tree trunks. The glorious redwoods so large I can easily hide behind and between and amongst them. Piles of leaves…covering myself head to toe in their musty smell and crunchiness. Falling backwards into a pile that catches me with total support. I did this in the middle of my neighborhood once; I was unable to stop myself in spite of the fact that someone had obviously painstakingly raked them into a giant pile. This made me giggle with delight, and I loved it. The glee. The abandon. The warm embrace. The pillow. Afterward, I loved picking them out of my sweater and hair for the rest of the day. These are the things I want to say yes to. And DAILY.
When I stop
And look up
Through the branches
As the sun
Drips gently through
It is only then
That I pause, and
Stop my scurrying
Stop my worrying
Fill my lungs with
The damp clean air
Wrap my arms
Around my best friends
Who are
Standing in a circle
Majestically
Reaching for the sky
Their rich, red, wood
Tickling my nose
With earth
And time
And glory