Today I met a sweet, kind arborist. I was
back at the Blue Spruce that I wrote about earlier last week. I needed to
collect some of its branches for an exciting collaboration that I will announce
within a day or two that Blue Spruce initiated.
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| "Gather my needles, my resin, my branches, my sawdust..." |
I heard a truck engine. I really didn’t
want to be bothered. A gentleman drove by and then pulled over to the side of
the road, then slowly started backing up.
I looked his way and he jumped out of his
truck. “Need a hand?” he said.
All I had was a pair of small shears and I
was trying to gather a trunk full of spruce boughs. I must have looked like I
needed help.
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As an intuitive, I've always been able to connect to trees. Anyone can do this.
It begins with what is known as esthesis, a connection between you and any living organism. |
“Oh thank you, that would be great,” I
replied. A year ago I probably would have shrugged him off and said no. It was
a bit foreign to me to allow someone to help me when I probably could have
managed it, and I noticed that about myself as he smiled kindly. It can feel
vulnerable to allow someone to help. So I let myself feel vulnerable.
He walked up and I noticed he had a curved
pruning saw and was ready to jump in the snowbank to retrieve these branches
that are worth gold to me.
“How many do you need?” he asked. I paused
because I really wanted to say the entire tree. “A couple of pounds would be
plenty for now,” I answered. He carefully selected the best branches. I mean he
treated this tree friend of mine like it were his friend too.
“Were you the one to cut it down?” I
inquired.
“Who me? Nah,” he said, wielding the saw
like a piano player mastering black and white keys. “I’m an arborist and do
work around here. You know,” he said thoughtfully, “this is a Blue Spruce.”
“I know,” I said, astounded that not only
did someone appear out of nowhere, but he seemed as equally excited to talk
about trees.
“You can’t just go by the needles because
you can mistake these for Engelmann Spruce. You really need to take a look at
the cones.”
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| Are you open to allowing nature to lead you into deep spiritual connection and teachings? |
This was the conversation I have literally
been wanting to have with someone. This guy was speaking my language. If he
only knew, I spent hours on the internet identifying the bark, comparing
needles, cones and considering the riverbed forest location in which it grew. I
had been wanting an expert to validate my research and here he was on this
less-traveled road right in front of me. This was no coincidence. I wanted to
burst out laughing because it was ridiculously perfect!
Behind the scenes, Blue Spruce was less
impressed with me and asking if I actually didn’t think it was capable of
creating scenarios like this one. No, no, I know you can, I told it, having an
aloud conversation with the man and an energetic conversation with the tree.
We loaded the boughs into my car before he
asked what I was going to do with it. Can you imagine? Like it was normal to
him that I was out here spending time with a fallen tree.
When I told him that I’m an alchemist and
that I am turning the tree into incense and essences his face lit up.
“Well after Blue Spruce you have to try
Subalpine Fir. It’s my favorite. You’ll have to go up to a higher elevation to
get to it. But its aroma...” he faded into an aromatic memory. “The sap comes
out of the bark in the spring like bubbles and it’s just incredible.”
His pure joy about the sap made me laugh
out loud. I nodded in agreement and told him I would seek out one of his firs.
I thanked him again and we shook hands,
sharing names. He drove away and I looked back at my tree friend.
“You are quite magical, aren’t you?”, I
asked aloud. The energy swirled in the air. Raven flew overhead and its call
echoed in the forest. A nearby cottonwood leaned in the breeze and gave a loud,
slow creak.
