Medicine Tree
It’s that time again!
I can actually feel the sun’s heat on my face and the slow but steady warming of my legs through my long black exercise pants. A spring gift! It’s always a surprise the first time this happens following what feels like a very long season of dry, cold and bleak weather rhythms.
Resting here against this magnificent tree, I feel at the centre of life itself.
This tree is old and its dark bark, a mix of deep browns, charcoal greys and blacks, contrasts to the many sap smears on its outside skin; deep red runs of glistening, gluey, ant attracting stickiness.
I always thought this arrival meant the tree was somehow wounded or damaged and that the presence of sap was a response to some external trauma or perhaps even internal disease. I always felt melancholic when I noticed an amber-red glossy ooze seeping out; imagining, that perhaps it was a way for the tree to grieve its loss or balm its pain.
Today, I sensed for a moment my sadness for this tree once fresh and new and flawless, now slowing in its older years, it’s life seemingly draining away, releasing its tears, deepening its grooves and cracking open readying to shed more of its ageing bark, more loss of vibrancy, and of life.
In parallel, I’m reminded that I, like most people, have scars or parts of my body that I find unattractive or imperfect, yet, are a vitally important part of all of who I am.
Unlike trees, many of us disguise those marks or features that are less attractive. We seek to cover our flaws and present ourselves with our best smile, from our best angle, in the best light.
Unlike trees, many of us speak harshly to ourselves when we come to notice those parts that are unattractive. Often, we come suddenly to the realisation that this part is in stark contrast to how we’ve always seen ourselves. How is it that I’ve not noticed this before? What is its purpose? Why has it shown up now? Can it be shed?
Unlike trees, we may turn away from others to hide the part that feels unsafe to show. A part unresolved or yet unowned. A part that brings up something I may have been hiding from or hiding out with, for decades, or possibly even, lifetimes.
Low…!
My long-held interpretation of the purpose of sap is completely inaccurate.
The nutrients and minerals in sap are reabsorbed by the tree, essentially providing sustenance for a flush of spring growth. The tree yields its own medicinal nourishment to help its whole form awaken again and regenerate after a dormant period out in the cold.
As I sit with this realisation, this new information, I turn to my own lived experience in search of times when I’ve been able to awaken again after a long cold winter, to my own soul-purpose, to regenerate and rejuvenate that which has always been deeply rooted in me.
I return again, to remembering the lyrical soul-song sweetly singing to my heart, igniting me to be free where I am, now.
I recall once more, the blessed gifts I’ve been bestowed, and the deep inner knowing that all aspects of me are here to serve my best expression of my consciousness.
This tree invites me to remember that I am medicine for my own soul too.
I need not look elsewhere for a balm or sage advice.
I am, as the tree is, a healer too.
