For the last several weeks, my days have carried the soundtrack of chainsaws and trucks. The woods behind my house have been undergoing a constant cutting down. The pause of the grating buzz of the chainsaws has stopped only brieflyto give way to crashing thuds as these incredible beings fall to the earth. For some of the more elder and robust trees, the reverberation of them hitting the ground has been felt hundreds of yards away.
The seemingly endless noise pollution of the day has been irritating enough. But to feel as if those beings are being cut down without the respect they deserve has been much worse.
One evening after the day’s tree-cutting work had been completed, I took a walk in the woods – something I have done dozens of times over the years – to survey the scene and see what had happened to my friends. Trodding through the now open area, I stepped on and over severed limbs and sawdust as I passed stumps of what were so very recently tall, robust, and proud beings. Viscerally, I felt the pain of the forest. The pain of these magnificent trees – some of which were easily a hundred years old – being cut down unceremoniously and without discrimination. The pain of the birds and chipmunks and the countless magical beings losing their homes. The pain of the dis-health of a culture who sees the natural world as resources to be taken, not beings to live beside and with.
I wept, openly. I cried out, wondering how this could happen, who could do this, all the while knowing that this is just the tiniest drop in the bucket of the damage that has come from humans taking from the natural world.
I made my way to and down the path I have taken for years and stood next to the giant grandfather sugar maple I have cultivated a relationship with. This “wizard,” as he calls himself, oversees the entire local ecosystem. I cried and apologized on behalf of humans, acknowledging what felt like a meaningless loss of life. His response surprised me. He offered a wry smile and the explanation that he’s seen beings come and go for centuries, and that the woods would be fine. After death the natural next step is more life.
I promised to take pieces that had been discarded and give them new purpose and life, as I have with my spiritually-centered woodcraft. I asked the wizard tree what else I could do, and he was clear there wasn’t much more to be done. I had done the honoring work of open-heartedly witnessing the pain of his kin. Their energy was seen and felt through me. That simple act was all that was needed.
When I came home and shared my experience to my partner, she reminded me that I don’t know what those felled trees are going to be used for. “Perhaps they will be used as the frames for houses built by Habitat for Humanity.” She’s right. I don’t. I can hope that the trees are used for the benefit of others, that their lives were not lost in vain.
I returned to the woods a second time on the autumn equinox to honor the change of season and to see what pieces of wood were ready and willing to come back home with me to be given new purpose. The energy in the now-cleared space could not have been more different from my earlier visit. It was peaceful. Although visually the scene looked the same, the woods had already re-established a new balance.
The cycle of death and rebirth was very much on display through this process. The transition is from light to dark and back to light. Over and over. Weep for the loss, letting the pain move through and then the space for newness opens up.
Life is always in motion. Whether you consider it Consciousness or Mother Nature or Great Mystery, It is forever unfolding, unwinding, expanding, and evolving. Any stagnation of energy is antithetic to this natural way, and is even potentially dangerous. When you’re in the woods and need water to drink, it is advised to go for the running streams instead of the stagnant puddles. When it comes to emotions, unfelt, unexpressed, and unhonored feelings are commonly at the root of personal dysfunction and psychospiritual illness.
The work of the shamanic practitioner is to aid the flow of the energy of Life. Our healing work is centered around resolving the places where energy is stuck and where Life didn’t unfold freely, by bringing love and compassion to energy which has been trapped by fear. In psychopomp work, we honor the cycle of life and death by helping “stuck” beings take the next steps on their journey. With soul retrievals, we help unbind soul fragments from their traumatic experiences. With extractions, we compassionately help energy which has gotten lodged in someone that has been inhibiting both its own and its host’s natural journeys.
Feeling the all feelings – particularly the unpleasant ones – is what allows the fullness of a situation to be honored and for Life to unfold freely. As Westerners, we have strong cultural conditioning which resists painful feelings and is woefully disconnected from the challenges of the end of life. As shamanic practitioners, we are tasked with boldly facing the things within ourselves and our own journeys which we are not allowing to move through fully and freely. This simple (yet often challenging) process aids us being able to better serve the stuck energy with others – whether this looks like a big fire ceremony, or simply being open to and allowing the painful feelings of trees who were unceremoniously cut down.
As the wizard tree offered, after death comes more life. With compassion and love, after stuckness comes the next opportunity.
To All My Relations I offer the following perceptions formulated through my experiential observations. The author addresses changing relationships and their resulting consequences.
Consider this metaphorical analogy. While I’m not a “Pinball Wizard” I can visualize emanating from the relationship between man and machine a depiction that melds the laws of natural and “man’s” freedom of choice. Envision if you will a pinball that expresses the laws of nature and man poised to intervene who could impute its freedom to choose. As the pinball is launched from its lowest elevation it eventually reaches its highest elevation, there nature ‘s law of gravity can now be observed. If left to freely express itself uninterrupted the pinball eventually would return safely to its “homestead”, none for the worse having navigated a circuitous path, yet evolved. Alternatively, man could intervene and impute its freedom to choose by altering the trajectory of the pinball. This will result in either a delay in the inevitable resulting effects of gravity or man could perceive to be REWARDED (higher score) for intervening.
Having spent a considerable amount of time in the Pacific Northwest, tree forestation rules. However, as prominent as trees are they are not invincible. They too have a natural shelf-life. Let us not forget that their life existence is susceptible to both nature and man which include energetic forces such as fire, bark beetle, disease, and yes timber harvesting both clear-cut and selective.
Regardless of the life ending event for the tree, foundational relationships will be altered for both the observer and its inhabitants. It is an evolutionary process from which All My Relations seek the strength to adjust and consequently evolve. Just as the tree stumps sharing their lifelong wisdom to their remaining brethren through the mycelium’s network.
Arguably man and the natural world will suffer from man’s myopic viewpoint, negating its ability/willingness to embrace the BIG PICTURE long term. I take solace in knowing that the inherent nature of the Universe is to CREATE.
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