I’ve always loved trees, sometimes more than people. They remind me of myself in a lot of ways; what is seen on the surface seems oftentimes like the whole picture, but underneath the surface lies the other 80%.
The mind of a trie lies in its roots- small, microcilia-like hairs coat the roots, and not only allow trees to sense disruptions in their surroundings, but communicate with each other.
Sometimes, if I close my eyes and let my mind go blank, it feels like I become a part of the trees, part of the net root communication.
A few days ago, when we were in the forest in IMAP (Institute of Mesoamerican Permaculture), I felt such a strong pull towards the trees. As we walked deeper into the forest, I knew why: the grandfather tree, over 500 years old. While we talked about its moss, the home it provides for other species, and the way in which it helps to sustain life, I rested my head on its surface, and closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, everything seemed to move slower. Everything connected, colors brighter. I could have been imagining it, but I’d like to think I saw things the way the grandfather tree does- fluid, cyclical, organic. Because as soon as it came, it left- but I’m content with that.
(ALSO!!! Hi mom hi dad hi zig I miss you all a lot!! Also tell cat I say hello:)