Whispers of Trees: Yet to come

Last Updated on October 3, 2017 by Patrick

Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.
F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I have seen the light mingled with the trees, caressing barks, and leaves, and twigs and branches. I have seen movement in the woodland silence. I have seen shoots and saplings getting attention from the Sun. I have seen..

There is no shortage of light, no shortage of shadows, no shortage of wood and earth, as there is no shortage of water. The crunchiness of the details of the textures make me wonder: what triggers life? How is it possible to come again? What am I looking at, actually?

I’ve been in a forest place that’s been, somehow, held hidden from me nowadays. I couldn’t, recently, get there, as many branches and fallen woods kept the woodland entrance impracticable, I couldn’t go there, in the recent years. But this time, this year, it seems I could find a way which made me quite happy. The beech forest always seemed very quiet, yet mysterious to me. It seemed another world to me, filled with vertical beings, powerful, yet simple beings of wood and earth, and water, and chlorophyll, and oxygen and all. I’ve always looked at trees with a sense of, not only, wonder, but respect as well. I think of them moving from place to place, but slowly.. slower than us. But it doesn’t matter. Once you slow down your sight, your perceptions, you will see them.. in the back of your mind, where sight is kneaded. That is the cause of seeing.

But for now, I’d like to analyze something I’ve seen and understood while hiking in the forest. The spread of light through the canopies, touching the woodland bed, gives chances to those saplings that are yet to come into this world. Starting all over is actually amazing, when coming to think of it, because the plants are creating one step at a time, substance with substance, molecule with molecule and atom with atom. It is all in the relationship between microscopic worlds. It is actually amazing how the infinitely small creates and is reflected upon the infinitely large. You can see the mirror of the Universe everywhere.

There are equal chances for all, in the woods. As I stated above, there is no shortage of anything and, above all, there is no fretting for the scarcity one has to put up with, if any, and for the abundance the big trees experiment and live in. As I could see and understand there is only silence and the small, should I say, random sounds going about in the forest. But their language is actually silence. One cannot and should not use ears to hear and record the language of the forest. There are other instruments for these, and their use is long forgotten by mankind.

The trees have it all. In their relationship with all there is, the trees build their world into the light. The fractal aspects they have are meticulously built by a music which can be heard only by looking at the trees, by watching nature with patience. I think that our human language is both the most complex, the most evolved, and the most tiring, energy consuming in the world. If I would have to talk the least, I would be happier…

Trees do talk, actually, but in another kind of language which can be sci-fi to us if we would find out, if we would know it. Their language is hidden within the molecular and electronic dimensions of their organisms. While biology should be the study of life, scientists are missing out on something only now they begin to discover: the wide spectrum of frequencies and vibrations Nature has.

When I go into the forests I try to silence my mind so I can hear what others talk and talk about. These others are the beings of the woods, of course, from trees to flowers, to grass (if any in the low lit forest), to even mushrooms and fungi. They are singing, not talking, and they speak of their life and how they live it, vastly superior than ours. Their only connection with us is through our foolish acts of disturbing Nature. We know almost nothing of the world. Living in such a world that is a stranger to us and we have the audacity to call it home, scares me the most. Why have we separated ourselves so much that we refuse to listen to the stimuli around us? Where do we think we are?

Trees speak of a life so strange to us that only one thing is familiar: relationship. The rest of it is completely unknown because we are not awake.