I’ve slowly noticed how the Oak trees and the Bay trees are usually near one another—either touching, next to each other, or even connected. The smell of the bay leaves is intoxicating to me. I take in hearty inhales to ingest the elixir into my lungs. I’ve walked around a local lake pretty regularly for several years. I think it was around the time the COVID pandemic outbreak hit the US, and after I watched My Octopus Teacher in late 2020, that I decided to try and acquaint myself with my local natural environment. This was definitely a new concept for me, as I have always loved adventure and have been more than ready to go off to foreign, exotic lands to experience things I felt I couldn’t at home.
Being originally from Michigan, I spent my younger years in the forests there, which were usually full of pines, birch, and the like. It was quiet and magical. California’s nature has always been so grand, so large, so magnificent on a grand scale that it has taken me some time to feel at ease with it. It’s like being in the presence of royalty or someone famous. How does one relax and not stand at attention? How does one become close and intimate with something that seems so grandiose?
I digress. This lake that I began walking around was closer in scale and feel to the landscapes back in Michigan, so, in a way, it felt more approachable than, say, the coastal redwoods. It’s been many years and seasons now since I began this regular routine. I’ve been there in many different moods, transitions, and stages in life. There are days when I’m so attentive to the nuances and details of the environment, and others when my thoughts take the attention and focus inward.
I pick favorites. I have three trees that I gravitate toward, and they are my trinity. Then there are the boulders—some covered with moss, stacked and scattered about—that feel reminiscent of Scotland or Ireland. Why do I love moss so much?! They have taken me on shamanic journeys to the inner earth. I have touched and held the bark of their trunks. I’ve observed their stature, their leaves, the animals and insects moving about their bodies. They’ve helped me cry and release the stress, sadness, and grief that I had stuck inside of me. They help me steady myself, to connect with that loving, grounded energy inside of me.
Then one day, I was passing a very large oak intertwined with a bay. It stopped me in my tracks. I was so taken and moved by this. I felt like I was witnessing a great love story—so much depth, drama, sacrifice, and unity. Even though they were rooted in the ground, I sensed a dance taking place before me.
I walked closer and looked up to study how this was happening. It seemed so deep and sensual, like I was intruding on some private, intimate exchange. That’s how it’s done. There was a blending, twisting like a serpent. There was support. Support of a limb, making space, adjusting to the growth of the other. How to cohabitate, and yet each had their own distinct identity. Their branches were holding their unique and distinct expression. It was clear they were two different trees. They didn’t merge into one and lose their own blueprint. This moved my soul. Like watching a couple who has been together for many decades and still love, tease, and flirt with one another. I thought, I want that. That is what I felt after taking in this episodic work of art.
What one can tap into when the heart is open. There is love everywhere, hidden in plain sight.
I watched a crane fly by and felt that its movements were putting me in a hypnotic trance, where time and space did not behave as I was accustomed to. The wings moved in a way that placed me in a surreal world I’ve seen captured in some Japanese films. A world beyond words or mental explanation.
And, of course, there is comic relief. The quail are around in the side bushes, skirting about as I approach. They run off in every direction with no apparent awareness as to where they are heading, making their cute little noises, though clearly in distress. I try not to delight too much in their cuteness.
Worlds within worlds. Treasures within treasures. So many experiences in a short 2.5-mile journey. Like one night from One Thousand and One Nights. How could I be distraught about anything in this state of mind and heart? How could I ever feel alone with all of this love pouring into me from every direction? It really is pure medicine.