This particular evening my mind is racing especially fast, sorting through to-do lists and ruminating none-too-helpfully on things that have gone wrong, or could go wrong... checking account balances, career schemes, car repairs; I have left the present moment and possibly the planet itself, and it is not a good trip!
In the corner of my mind I notice her and feel a glimmer of the usual excitement, but my frenzied thoughts are jamming up my senses. Until.
I find myself enveloped in a heady, delicious scent. It is her, in full glorious bloom. I stop short. Her pale pink flowers hang like bells, glowing in the evening light, surrounded by a chorus of bees who have smelled her scent from miles around and come to gather nectar.
My anxiety seems suddenly utterly uncouth in the presence of such a spring symphony. I pick my way down the slope, "just to get a closer look", I tell myself. But before I know it, I have found a snug perch on her branches. They are so wide and solid that they could support me and a few other people besides. And smooth... they are like silk, like a lovers arms. In fact I am inspired to kiss them.
The bees buzz above, lulling me into a reverie. I lay my head back on her trunk and remember the first time I saw a her in full bloom, my first year in the Foothills...
I am newly arrived from the San Francisco Bay, the world of soft mists and tender climbing vines. I am having a hard time understanding this new world of red clay earth that stains everything, this world of freezing winters and blistering summers, populated by tough people and tougher plants. But the Manzanita is a touch of grace, each plant a living sculpture. Her flowers on this spring day have taken me by complete surprise; pale pink and lantern-like, they seem as delicate as the beloved Passionflowers and Cala Lilies I have left behind in my garden by the Bay. As I stand there with my jaw agape, a hummingbird buzzes in, my favorite fairy friend-- this unlikely tree is clearly on his nectar gathering route! Following his advice, I taste the blosoms myself, and find that they are sweet as honeysuckle. So there is sweetness and softness in these hardscrabble hills, if you only know where to look...
And she is comforting me again tonight, my Manzanita tree. She who is so sensuous in her solidity. She has some of the densest wood in the forest-- so dense, in fact, that to use too much in your wood stove runs the risk of heating the chimney so hot that the roof can catch fire. Yet there is something light and dancing about her twisty-turny silk-smooth red arms. Perhaps I, too, can get out of my head and return to my grace, marrying my strength with my softness.
And to just let go and be with a larger being is such a relief. As I tune in to her spirit, I realize that Manzanita is more than happy to comfort me. To sit cradled in the arms of being who stands unmoving through rain, snow, and sun, is like being a child again, when all possible problems were solved by being in your parent's arms.
Is she a "lower life form" just because she cannot move or talk? What a strange thought, when she knows more about rootedness and the present moment than I ever will! Granted, she is not flashy (even if she is the most beautiful specimen in her family) but like all plants, she resonates with the qualities that we humans all aspire towards (and create fantasy heroes to embody): wisdom, patience, intuition, and the power to travel through dimensions and psychic portals.
When I embarked on my journey to study plant Spirit Medicine, I was expecting bells and whistles. And why not? I was raised in the post-psychedelic generation. My fairly straight parents had Carlos Castenada books on the living room bookshelf. And you can go there; I have a few times, and I know many people who embark on dazzling shamanic journeys with the help of the plant kingdom.
But you can also hang out, just like friends do, taking simple pleasure from being together.
The great thing is that unlike people friends, who may be distracted or have a hard time hearing your troubles without getting brought down themselves, plants can absorb the full gamut of human emotion and remain utterly present, utterly themselves. Some may be a little harder to get to know than others, but once the effort is made, they are ever-willing playmates and guides.
So we hang for a little while, me and Manzanita. she is not known as a nervous system tonic, but there is a cure effected in just being with her, being still, for long enough to absorb her wisdom.
When I finally rise and take the trail back home, I find that many of my "problems" have mysteriously solved themselves. We don't owe that tax money after all; I finally got the message in my inbox about booking a music show that I was waiting for all week. And those nebulous, monstrous Things that "could" go wrong? Who cares! I'll be in the bath...
Take my advice, friends-- go and sit in a tree! You might be surprised.
