Carmel at the Santa Lucia Preserve, an idyllic retreat among lichen dripping oaks, green slopes, vistas, birds, deer, and coyote. The alive ecosystem of the coastal environment is present in a vital way to this tired body. Yesterday’s wedding already a fading memory. The Barn, the view of the mountains for the ceremony, the relaxed vibe, all a part of me now, but I’m present in this moment without reflection on yesterday.
It’s all about the trees here. The way they stand in artistic poses and profound presence. They are peace and calm.
And the quiet! It seems they are thinking deep thoughts, still becoming more. It is a vital pervading mood that permeates – introspective and wise.
I am out with the trees now. Sweet soft breeze. They receive what’s offered with such grace. Later there will be a wild wind and a hot sun, and they will provide respite for some winged ones. They will shelter dozing deer, and yawning coyotes. They will talk to their brethren and commune with the others. Later still they will enjoy a moon bath and stellar sparkling light on their leaves. Their roots will reach deeper into the earth and their crown to the heavens with their hearts wide open to all that is. These trees.
“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farm boy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
