Liquid Consciousness

The trees, they are quiet on a day like today.  The wind, not hardly breathing, flutters oh so gently through their leaves.  As I write this very sentence down, a breath, a touch, a caress of wind reaches my face, reminding me of its presence. It interacts with my being as one with a consciousness.

It is my impression and observation that the trees and the wind consciously engage in a dance of movement and response, a symbiosis of mutual respect, a creation akin to music and dance. There are times, for example, that the leaves of the trees wave in response to wind that one can feel; there are times that the wind appears to move only after the leaves have lifted and fluttered.  Which came first?

I like to imagine that the forests create this wind. I have seen where they create their own micro-weather. The greater the forest, the larger the effect. One can see this effect in an area as large as the Amazon forests, an area that is vital to the health of earth's weather.  Also, on a much small microcosm, the weather can be shifted and changed under the aegis of the trees of even a small forest.  Often when a road passes between an area of forests, the weather changes.  During the winter, this could mean more Snow. In Summer, here, in my beech forest, it means more gentle breezes for us to enjoy, play in and listen to.

At this moment, I gaze at a Grandmother Beech whose leaves gently flutter on unseen wind. Soon I feel the touch of this breath on me. It is so unimaginably gentle.  As I look around to see if any other trees are responding to that wave of motion, but nothing appears to move.  Then, in a few moments, the large Maple up the hill with its sister Birches, jostle around visibly, waving forcefully, as if to say, "look here, notice me."

The stillness of the day is a contrast to recent weeks during which the wind moved in masses of trees like undulating waves of water,  making the trees look like underwater sea creatures, or forests of seaweed.  And these trees have responded with graceful dances.  It is a flowing watery movement. It appears that the trees are dancing on the hilltops with the wind as their partner. Bending and twisting before returning to center, as seaweed does in response to the tidal motion of the sea.  There is an ebb and flow in the movement like the inhale and exhale, or the rhythmic motion of master qigong hands initiating and responding.  The sounds made in the rustling leaves sounds watery.  It is a laughing joy of aliveness.

But today is different.  Those same dances are only memories or secrets hidden in the trees today.  The trees appear, in the stillness to be listening, to be in rapt attention. Perhaps there is a conversation going on to which I am not yet attuned.  Who is speaking? And how very quiet is the audience on this still day.

The Beech branches under which I sit, feel curious, gentle and attentive.  Is the conversation going on between this tree and that nearby Maple? The one that jostled earlier by the stronger wind?  What is the topic? Wave, toss moves/speaks the maple; flutter, lift responds the Beech branches- buoyed by unfelt breeze.

Master tree, what would you say to me?  I listen carefully now, to feel your touch and truth on my skin and my soul.  Mourning Doves land as I listen.