Love to you in all of the loss you are holding. Gratitude for every act of compassion and repair amidst such intense despair. I’ve been in the ebb and flow of grief and community care, tending as I can. My attention roams wildly. In this moment it’s on the trees.

The destruction wrought by the hurricane included ancient oaks, maples, sycamores, and pines in my neighborhood. My heart shattered for the fallen friends all around me. Trees that I have been in awe of for decades, now giant bodies on the ground, both here and across our battered region. We know trees can communicate with each other, and I grieve with them that an extreme, out of whack weather event tore through so many mighty trunks.

When the trees were cut, it exposed the rings of their lives, hundreds of years of solidity and spirit. Touching them, I try to stretch my own time frame, reminded of the wise Indigenous Seventh Generation teaching that everything we do today should support a sustainable world seven generations into the future. May it be so. 

In the multitude of losses caused by this catastrophe, the felled trees are deeply present for me. I thank them with all of my might for the reciprocity we shared in breathing, for storing water, for feeding and housing critters and birds and insects, for cooling the air, for helping to prevent erosion, and on and on. Thank you.

May we witness saplings rising up that will grow to be as majestic as their ancestors, providing food and shelter and shade for future beings. May we treasure and protect the trees who still stand, as we treasure the beautiful, diverse forest of our human community. 

Again, blessings to all of you out there practicing collective care and responding to this crisis with creativity. I am inspired by and learning from you all.

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