Nature is on Tiptoes
Day 45 of my tree puja. Blossoms all but gone, lengthening days feed an abundance of light to the eager leaves.
This morning has the quality of mist – like a cat’s fur without the cat, or cherry blossom without the tree. Still, silent, and soft, nature is on tiptoes, quietly breathing, nothing else.
The tree is so silent.
Day 29 of my tree puja. I hear birdsong as the voice of the tree. I consider the importance of ritual, and the disturbance of its loss when tradition is trampled by modernity.
I was there at the grey time, listening to the silence of the tree, thinking how I talk too much.
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.