Whenever life gets too loud I need to find a forest. Trees are the ultimate listeners of both silent and spoken stories, and I’ve got too many voices ringing out from my ever-so-functional neurological processes to handle all by my lonesome in solitary confinement.
Don’t get me wrong, company is easy to find, but a receptive presence… that’s a hot commodity in today’s daily grind. I can barely find the time to silently kneel down to pray at my shrine to the Divine before bedtime, so stillness to me is more than just a luxury, it’s an absolute necessity. Without it I lose track of the subtle sacred realm of living energy that is the source of all my thoughts, actions, and feelings.
Even more than that though, the trees themselves remind me of some perennial state of simplicity that carries with it more power than all the world’s armies aligned, then thrown into a Hollywood movie and dramatized projected straight into the mind, magnified through all 5 senses, flowing through the synapses until it’s cognitively intertwined with the very concept of one’s self-image. Breathing deeply, the smell of soil and pine is more potent a force to me than all the weapons of mass destruction combined.
The definition of an old growth forest is a forest that has attained great age without significant disturbance and thereby exhibits unique ecological features and may be classified as a climax community. Sounds pretty heavenly if you ask me. I think we can all agree that climax is pretty sweet. Mix in the sexy blending, reflecting, socially stimulating, pleasure enhancing elements of community, and orgasm becomes more than just a pleasure-sensation, life-force depleting reactionary expulsion of energy, suddenly it’s an ever changing, rearranging, endlessly engaging state of being.
All of nature is making tender love to itself eternally, teaching us the ways to tread softly, grow wildly, to open up our minds and our bodies to the sprouting seeds of consciousness, drinking in living waters of peace, dwelling in the spaciousness of the Father and the nurturing embrace of the Goddess, simplifying complex topics, bringing together the mysterious paradoxes by separating our minds from our hearts, this is more than just tree-hugging hippy philosophy, it’s a show-stopping experience hosted by this universe that we are alive in and it’s worth more than any cost of admission. But get this: this priceless ever-present magnificence is available to us instantaneously when we open our eyes to see the gift of the forest is all around us and will forever be. Absolute abundance presented to us eternally.
The trees are calling me. I can hear them in the breeze, teasing me with their rustling leaves, whispering please come see us, your dear friends who need to feel your bare feet on the soil that feeds us. Join us as we reach up through the forest canopy of perennial seasons into the cathedral grove of stillness, breathing breathless movement into the resting place of completeness. Give us your carbon dioxide sweetness so we can oxygenate your deepest parts and pieces, metabolizing our co-dependant being-ness.
Believing is seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, tasting this deliciousness of crystallizing uniqueness, the ever visible nature nation always present to its survival of the fittest sense of independence, but seducing that nymphomaniac process of co-creation. It’s paradox having sex with subjective objectifications; the holy fuck, manage-a-trois, orgasmic state of negative ion mycelium running EMF cleansing pulsations, flowing through all the tissues and sacred spaces, supercharging this biological receiving station until it becomes a living transmission of that blessed deathless wisdom.
Oh verdant creation, lead me out of my house of stagnation and into my home of enlightened perception. External manifestations of sublimation and transmutation, gift me that much needed cell-phone vacation; re-mind me of the importance of dis-connection, so that my days and nights can come to rest easily in the comforting landscape of global environmental habitation.
I’m sorry, I love you, please forgive my habitual disassociation. Thank you for your patience in the face of my procrastination, I can never repay my debt to your indescribably generous and affluent nation. My God am I humbled to be a recipient of your loving dispensation, transcending generations regardless of reciprocation, or lack thereof. My love for you is so far beyond this pathetic poetic expression, but I know that you can feel my deeper intention because I am speaking to the Old Growth, all my relations, life’s unbreakable connections displayed in full view through the most beautiful of manifestations.
What more can be said but that I meet you on the forest floor and you leave me in the highest of elevations.