I’ve been walking a fair amount these days. Seems after the death of my father a month ago, I don’t know what else to do with myself most days. So, I walk. I’ve taken to walks in the woods rather than the beach for some reason. Quieter, fewer people as a rule I suppose. I can’t say why I ended up at this particular trail today. It is in the town where my parents live, or rather where my mom lives, not in the town where I live. There are trails everywhere and it isn’t necessary for me to drive half an hour to a trail but for some reason, it’s where I find myself.
Stepping onto the trail the energy changes immediately and there is magic in the air. With every step, I am deeper into the space. Holly trees thick with their deep green leaves and brilliant bright red berries line both sides of the trail offering peace and protection allowing the tenseness I have been carrying in my body to soften just a little. Sun shines through the trees and it is warmer than the layers I’m wearing call for. As I move through the space I notice the many faery doors and forts along the way and smile remembering my friend in Dingle showing me with great pride the faery forest in her back garden. I never noticed or paid attention to such things until then. It seemed silly and even now it still gives me pause, but just at this moment, I notice someone has placed a tiny wooden house decorated with colored beads in one such faery fort entrance, and maybe it isn’t so silly after all.
It’s windy again today and the tall pine trees sway and bend over the top of me. I listen to creaks and moans for a message they might have for me. I’m told that they have such wisdom for us if we listen, so I stand quietly and listen. “Be gentle and kind with yourself,” they tell me or at least I am believing that they do, and onward I walk wondering if the message is real or if maybe I have simply lost the run of myself for good. Grief does strange things to a person after all. I’m relieved when I find myself at the overlook to the ocean below and I can breathe in the salty ocean air and right myself again. The tide is out and the white sand sparkles in the sunlight. Breathing in one last breath of ocean air I turn to the trail that will lead me back to where I began. The pine needles underfoot are soft and slippery. I focus on each step so I don’t twist an ankle. Suddenly my feet stop as if of their own volition. A giant oak tree stands to my left. I feel drawn to it in some way so I step closer. There doesn’t seem to be anything remarkable about it. It looks like all the other oak trees in these woods. But it isn’t the same. I can’t say what it is exactly, but I am curious so I step right up and lean into it. Now I have never been much of a tree hugger before, yet suddenly I’m actually putting my arms and hands against the bark of this tree. The power I feel pushes me back. I’m not sure if I’m afraid or in awe so I step in again. The world around me disappears and I am alone in the world with just this powerful, grounded tree. It wraps me in its gentle strength. There is such a kind, caring love spilling from this tree. I feel like a broken-hearted child and an ancient, wise, loving father or grandfather has just reached down to pick me up and hold me upon his knee. I am safe and my tears can flow without judgment, without shame, without question. I am not alone. There is such profound wisdom, yet it is at the same time so simple. I am lost and found at the same time and I cannot understand any of it. Stepping back I take one last look at the tree, touch it once more. “Thank you,” I whisper and turn away, back to the trail. By the time I reach the car, my tears have dried and while my heart feels lighter, my mind has already started to question our sanity. I struggle to hold onto the magic and tuck the tree’s tiny acorn into my pocket and I know it is real in the deepest parts of my knowing. For today it’s a start. That is enough.
