There is a big white pine along a small sandy stream in North Wisconsin. That's my version of this story. It was alive when I was younger, but died, and fell into the stream. It's been comforting to watch that tree nourish the bugs, fishes and stream after its terrestrial life concluded. I still go back to it, almost annually as a type of pilgrimage.
Beautiful writing, thank you. For some time now, I have been experiencing trees differently as well — as vibrational forms, as currents and flows. I have a favorite pair of trees: a living beech embracing a dead one. The two exist differently. Dead trees — beyond, of course, providing a home for so much life, insects and fungi — also live in another way, in my experience. They awaken in us the kind of energy that is needed to have faith, or to trust the future, to keep walking our path even when we cannot see everything ahead.
Thanks for reading. I definitely relate to the notion that a dead tree may impart faith, even in the face of uncertainty (which, practically speaking, is always). Or that essence remains even after life has departed. Humans have looked to trees for inspiration from the start.
A lovely piece Ranjit, thank you. There’s something deeply recognisable in what you say about having a “special tree.” Many of us have one, though we don’t always admit it out loud. A tree we return to without quite knowing why, a place that seems to hold its own kind of listening.
Your piece reminded me of a line from Herman Hesse’s Wandering that has stayed with me for years:
“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.”
I’ve always loved that idea: that trees don’t instruct us, they steady us. They don’t demand belief, yet they invite a kind of attention that feels older than any doctrine. When we stand with a particular tree, one we’ve come to know through seasons, weather, and our own shifting moods, we’re not just looking at nature. We’re entering into a relationship with something that has been quietly practising patience for decades, sometimes centuries.
Perhaps that’s why certain trees become “ours.” Not because we own them, but because they’ve witnessed us long enough that we begin to recognise ourselves in their persistence, their scars, their quiet endurance.
Your reflection captures that beautifully. It’s good to be reminded that these steadfast presences can still teach us, if we’re willing to listen.
Thank you, Peter. I haven't read Hesse since high school or college and Steppenwolf. I wasn't aware of that quote. I love learning from our community. Deep down, I'd bet a dollar most of us are closet animists!
I would be honored to meet your tree some day! Like you, I do come across specific trees or plants that emanate a special energy that specifically draws me in to it. However, I do not have a singular tree that is the "one." Instead, I have many and they even sometimes ebb and flow with the passing seasons and phases of the moon.
That tree may appear to be “dead”. But from just one look it’s obvious it’s soul remains.
Exactly. I agree.
There is a big white pine along a small sandy stream in North Wisconsin. That's my version of this story. It was alive when I was younger, but died, and fell into the stream. It's been comforting to watch that tree nourish the bugs, fishes and stream after its terrestrial life concluded. I still go back to it, almost annually as a type of pilgrimage.
Thanks for responding. What a complete and satisfying tale, pilgrim!
Beautiful writing, thank you. For some time now, I have been experiencing trees differently as well — as vibrational forms, as currents and flows. I have a favorite pair of trees: a living beech embracing a dead one. The two exist differently. Dead trees — beyond, of course, providing a home for so much life, insects and fungi — also live in another way, in my experience. They awaken in us the kind of energy that is needed to have faith, or to trust the future, to keep walking our path even when we cannot see everything ahead.
Thanks for reading. I definitely relate to the notion that a dead tree may impart faith, even in the face of uncertainty (which, practically speaking, is always). Or that essence remains even after life has departed. Humans have looked to trees for inspiration from the start.
A lovely piece Ranjit, thank you. There’s something deeply recognisable in what you say about having a “special tree.” Many of us have one, though we don’t always admit it out loud. A tree we return to without quite knowing why, a place that seems to hold its own kind of listening.
Your piece reminded me of a line from Herman Hesse’s Wandering that has stayed with me for years:
“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.”
I’ve always loved that idea: that trees don’t instruct us, they steady us. They don’t demand belief, yet they invite a kind of attention that feels older than any doctrine. When we stand with a particular tree, one we’ve come to know through seasons, weather, and our own shifting moods, we’re not just looking at nature. We’re entering into a relationship with something that has been quietly practising patience for decades, sometimes centuries.
Perhaps that’s why certain trees become “ours.” Not because we own them, but because they’ve witnessed us long enough that we begin to recognise ourselves in their persistence, their scars, their quiet endurance.
Your reflection captures that beautifully. It’s good to be reminded that these steadfast presences can still teach us, if we’re willing to listen.
Thank you, Peter. I haven't read Hesse since high school or college and Steppenwolf. I wasn't aware of that quote. I love learning from our community. Deep down, I'd bet a dollar most of us are closet animists!
Gaia, the primordial Earth Mother 👍
Such a fantastic tree! I have a few faves, one of which you've seen. I'll be back with another in a bit.
Looking forward to it!
I would be honored to meet your tree some day! Like you, I do come across specific trees or plants that emanate a special energy that specifically draws me in to it. However, I do not have a singular tree that is the "one." Instead, I have many and they even sometimes ebb and flow with the passing seasons and phases of the moon.
This is “Grandfather Tree,” a very old, massive Jamaican cotton tree (named by my son).
Wow! Respect for that beautiful and wise tree! Thanks for sharing.
Ranjit’s tree, e’en dead,
still homes, feeds generations.
Not retiring yet.
...
Adapted from last week in our Pausing for Ponderings post: https://marisolmunozkiehne.substack.com/p/truth-telling-trees