I offer my soft, warm breath
Day 13 of my tree puja. I realise things about the transformation of fire from the furnace of the sun, to the warmth of my breath.
The ground is like a full-soaked sponge, the water very cold. The sounds are of drips and drops and flowings. Everything is touched by rainwater…
Transformation is everywhere. It is the key to life.
Day 12 of my tree puja. It was my daughter’s 20th birthday. She was in London. I was southern Tasmania with the wintery tree.
As I squatted under her limbs, I felt my own limbs – legs holding me upright, strong, and true like the tree’s trunk, my arms free, like her branches…
The tree is silent, still, and receptive
Day 11 of my tree puja. I hear the sounds of silence, touch her bark and drink the rain.
In the drippy, damp dimness I listened to the sounds – water flowing in the drain, drops falling on leaves and from leaves, distant hum of traffic with Doppler effect…
The tree is never absent, but always silent
Day 10 of my tree puja. It’s the winter solstice, the longest night.
I visited the tree in the pre-dawn of the longest night…
She embodies Mother and silence.
Trees are the arms and hands of Mother Earth
Day 9 of my tree puja. I feel the tree as an aspect of Mother Earth.
The tree has continuity, which is a quality of Mother. Regardless of the child’s foibles the mother continues her work of love.
The tree stood silent under the moon
Day 8 of my tree puja. In which I offer the warmth of my body to the cold soil.
This morning, I went to the tree, which shone in the moonlight.
The tree is patient
Day 7 of my tree puja. I don’t quite get there.
This morning the tree excused me from visiting.
Tears are little but they have big causes
Day 6 of my tree puja. Emotions come and go, but the tree is always grounded.
This morning with my bare feet I stubbed my toe on a rock in the dark.
Tree, you bring me outside
Day 5 of my tree puja. It’s warm and cosy inside. I venture out to meet the winter morning.
You bring me outside to feel the dripping rain and sodden, rough ground.
The soil is the tree’s ocean
Day 4 of my tree puja. I’m back after some time away. It’s winter now.
I looked up and saw the bare hands of the tree, now that the leaves are all gone.