What the Tree Told Me, The Three Phases of the Self
:Community, Part 3
As I continued my relationship with the tree, I saw that it was populated, after 4.00pm, by a variety of feathered beings, The Blue Herons used it to roost in as did the Spoonbills. They would all take flight if I walked my dog near it after that time. I felt sorry that they didn’t realise that my dog is a gentle soul, who has been trained to respect the life of others. I got into the habit of also calling it the shag tree, as they were there much more often, not being migratory as the others were. The guano that they all deposited coated the tree’s upper branches white at times, often making me think of bird’s nest soup, not that I would ever have tried it. Guano soup does nothing for my imagination, let alone my digestive juices.
In the gap between the overhanging tree and the embankment, her branches made a hollow, a little cave where I could imagine timid creature, hiding away from the predators, and storms that are frequent in our area. I found the habitat of insects everywhere on her trunk, and fungus growing where it could. She was a veritable colony, my friend the tree. One day I was talking to a neighbour who had just become a friend, also. Our subject surprisingly became somewhat esoteric. I was pleasantly surprises as it is always nice to find like-mindedness where I can. I started to talk about my experience with the tree, to which she rejoined “Oh, you mean The Trouble Tree”. It turned out that this tree friend of mine, was friend to many. Another neighbour, who lost her husband suddenly some years ago, had found great solace in sharing her grief with the tree, naming it for that attribute. She, in turn, recommended it to a young relative of my new friend, introducing her to the process of healing offered by this amazing bent being.
Obviously, this tree had a reputation for being there for local humans. It wasn’t going anywhere, any time soon, being a tree. But the fact that its energy called out to us all was a miracle. Silly really, to have thought that I was the only one that had discovered this about it. Humans are inclined towards some tunnel vision I suppose, always thinking that what we know, and are, is unique, in some way different to all the rest of existence.
The tree was training me again. So much of my work is dedicated to helping people find, and be, the unique beings that they are, that it’s easy to forget that there is a whole other aspect to us. It’s self-evident, but it can only be found once we have established ourselves in the safe borders that define our individuality; once we know who we are, and who we are not. Before that it can be fraught with confusion, leading to us being what other people want us to be, losing ourselves in them, or never finding ourselves in the first place. It’s easy to be lost in the needs of everyone else, especially as we grow up. We quickly find out what our caregivers want from us and are clever manipulators of that information. We have to be. They are the only source of so much for our powerless childhoods. We see ourselves primarily through the eyes of what others want from us. And rarely, in our upbringings, are any of us encouraged to express the uniqueness that is trying to be heard amongst the cacophony of family life. Modern culture hasn’t helped. Everyone is so externally busy, we can feel like a burden, instead of a blessing.
But we are twofold beings, individuals that exist in a web of connections. Part of growing up needs to be the discovering of what it is to be us. But this part is often overshadowed by the time it takes for us to get our needs met from too-stressed, time-poor, hard-working parents. We end up with a pile of beliefs about what others want of us, and little knowing of what we want for ourselves. In adolescence, this conflict between Self and Other becomes huge. We want to do our own thing. We don’t know how to. If we are not careful, we end up replicating our parents, no matter what they were like. This is not what community is about, though it is what it largely has become. So, if it’s not the process of following in everybody’s footsteps, what is this thing called community? If there is no place for our uniqueness within it why bother? Because we are not meant to live in isolation.
The tree knew and wasn’t the first being to enlighten me on this topic. Somewhere in my 30’s, having the first serious relationship of my adult life as a woman loving women, I remember the difficulties I had coping with the process of living with someone else. With no idea about boundaries at that time, I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t be the way I believed a partner should be. In frustration, I stumped out to the back door, sitting on the top step, staring angrily at the Poinsettia tree. There was a sparrow sitting on a lateral branch in line with my vision. It was chirping away happily, which annoyed me even more in the state I was in. So, I yelled at it (as you do): “What the hell are you so happy about?” Much to my amazement I heard it answer inside my head (portending my later experiences with the shamanic world). “Just sit on your branch and sing your own song” it twittered at me. Gob-smacked as I was, I got the lesson with all its attendant wisdom. I have never forgotten that bird and never will. It’s teaching the precursor to many lessons to come.
So here was the tree, embodying the same lesson. It doesn’t have to be any particular way for anyone. It is just what it is. And will be what it will be. But in that, it has its place in the whole, without trying. It offers its energy naturally, to the community of beings it interacts with. Nothing more. Nothing less. All we have to do is be our true selves and the rest just follows.