Wednesday, November 11, 2020

In Memory of Trees

The tree that was (in spring)

A few days before Halloween, Wade and I were awakened one very dark and early morning by a loud swooshing sound followed by a thud that shook the house. A neighbor’s (and our pastor’s) very tall oak fell across the yard of the neighbor between us and into our backyard, taking out two fences (ours was brand new!) and a good portion of our only tree there, compliments of the winds and rain of Hurricane Zeta, which took down 350 trees in Atlanta.

The Bradford flowering pear, doomed eventually to split anyway by its very nature, was the sixth tree over 26 years that I have planted in the backyard. Each full-grown tree fell or was irreparably damaged due to a variety of natural circumstances, including drought, storms, and high winds: a maple, a cottonwood, a weeping willow, and two cypresses.

Our pastor's daughter and cat Luna
strolling toward our backyard in the distance.
Photo by Rev. Jenelle Holmes.

Probably related to the earlier storm, a very old and tall oak fell late afternoon on Halloween across our street to our front yard, demolishing our crepe myrtle and dogwood and burying our fountain and its flower bed. Thanks to the pandemic (how often do we get to use this phrase in a favorable way?), no trick-or-treaters were endangered.

In both cases, our yards got the top part of the trunk with all its branches, making quite a mess. Ironically, this season our lawns and yards had never looked so good, and now—! Where we live, where the tree lands is the landowner’s responsibility, and homeowner’s insurance doesn’t cover tree removal except at the very point it intersects with a structure.

Tree across Berne Street, our front yard on the right.

This event coinciding with the fearful pandemic and the contentious election, the biblical character Job came to mind. And, given how we were feeling about our yards, the phrase, “Pride goeth before a fall.”

Virtually all who saw our wreckage said it’s a blessing we were not injured and that our house was not damaged. A couple of passersby and several friends told us we must have had someone watching over us. One older black neighbor, Mary, cried to see the damage, grateful to find we were not hurt, and Wade realized she needed a masked-but-non-socially-distanced-yet-assuring hug.

Several neighbors/friends/members of Ormewood Church helped us clean up what we could before we brought in the “big guns” of a tree service to clean and remove the debris this week. One of them loaned us a generator to keep our fridge running during two periods without power. As Mister Rogers always said, in times of crisis, “look for the helpers.”

View from our front porch.

You know my penchant for observing synchronicity, what some call coincidence and others name miracle. When all of this happened I was finishing up reading Intelligence in Nature during my morning prayers, researched and written by anthropologist Jeremy Narby. He compares the wisdom of indigenous animist shamans in the Amazonian rainforest of Brazil with worldwide scientific research discovering intelligence in other animals (not just the human animal) and in plants and microscopic creatures.

God knows a virus can outwit much of our national leadership!

Another bit of synchronicity: friends recommended and we watched (and also recommend) a Netflix documentary entitled, My Octopus Teacher, about a relationship of an octopus with a South African diver. Narby reports that “Octopuses have the largest brains among invertebrates, and scientists have noted their intelligence (p73).”

Narby explains that “intelligence” comes from words meaning “choosing between (inter-legere) and implies the capacity to make decisions.”

Anthropologists have pointed out that some cultures have no concept for intelligence, while others define it in ways surprising to Westerners, for example in terms of good listening skills, or a strong sense of ethics, or the ability to observe, interpret, and negotiate the social and physical landscape (p44).

In my view, then, intelligence is what spirituality is all about, especially “good listening skills.” For me prayer and meditation require good listening, not just for God’s “still, small voice” but to ourselves and one another in our own decision-making.

I grieved for the lost trees. The one in back outside my office window especially served as my “axis mundi” during morning prayers, my center of the universe. Just as trees send chemical warnings to other trees of impending predators, I’ve wondered if these fallen trees were trying to warn us of how we are endangering our climate, we who are the most invasive predatory species.

Sitting on the back-deck seconds before the tree across the street came crashing down, something jumped on my sleeve, grabbing my arm. Startled by either its talons or claws, I jumped up, dislodging whatever it was, a bird or a chipmunk. I never saw it. Then I heard Wade shouting from inside the house as I heard a splintering groan.

I wonder if the creature on my arm was simply escaping the disaster or was flung over our roof.

Or was it trying to warn me?

Damaged tree from my office window.


Related post: I Live in a Forest Called Atlanta

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Copyright © 2020 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved.  



6 comments:

  1. Good morning Chris,
    I am sorry about your loss. That sounds so simplistic, but as I pondered this, I likened it to losing a child....a member of your family. You planted, nourished, measured, watered, and gazed lovingly and proudly, no doubt, at this magnificent tree. You may have boasted about the beauty of this, your tree.....perhaps listing all the things that you so loved about it.
    Now it will live on in your memory, leaving you with grief at its demise, but holding it close with the memories of how it fed you, gave you peace and joy.
    Perhaps a poem will emerge from the loving memories of this beautiful part of your family.

    That gives a whole new meaning of your family TREE!

    Blessings and God's peace,
    Mary

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    1. I especially love referring to this as our family tree! Thanks, Mary, as always, for your thoughtful and supportive comment! Your description of our feelings about this tree really "gets it." Thank you! Chris

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  2. Hello Chris. I am awestruck and amazed that you are able to reach into a situation and pull out the "intelligence" of the Spiritual Manifestation within our world. Thank you for, yet again, giving me such an intense and profound awakening to the world around me! My heart breaks for your loss, but I rejoice that you are here safe and sound to share the experience and insight! Thank you again!

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  3. Chris--So sorry for your loss. You and Wade have worked so hard to keep up your home and it shows. I, too, and grateful the two of were not harmed. It is a blessing from God. Love you, both. --Wes

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  4. I’m sorry to hear this. Trees add so much to our experience, including helping us track the seasons. No one loves trees like Mike. We saw a car smash into a tree on a TV show and Mike reacted like he’d just seen someone kick a dog. Wishing you both well during this difficult year.

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  5. Thank you, David, Wes, and Dabu for your wonderful comments. Sorry I've not been able to respond till now--we continue our cleanup and this is my first opportunity to read comments and express gratitude for them!

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