TEXT SIZE
E-MAIL
PRINT
MANAGE YOUR SUBSCRIPTIONConversations With A Tree
The complete text of this selection is available in our print edition.
This page contains a photograph which requires the Flash plug-in to be viewed. You can download it for free, here.
TWO YEARS AGO I moved into a Victorian house in Teaneck, New Jersey. On three sides my home was surrounded by forest: the Matthew Feldman Nature Preserve. On the fourth side was a four-lane highway (known in New Jersey as an “avenue”). Soon after I moved in, I went for a walk and had the uncanny sensation of being watched. As I approached the nearby trees, the feeling intensified and became a buoyant wave of beneficence.
I was at a point in my life where I needed direction. I was living in the suburbs for the first time, after ten years in the Catskill Mountains and, before that, thirty-five years in Manhattan. Silently I received this invisible touch. It’s difficult to explain, but I felt as if I were wearing a crown.
After a few days I located the source of this feeling: a young Norway maple. Every morning I’d have an audience with my tree. I always began by saying, “Namaskar,” which is Sanskrit for “I salute the divine within you with my entire mind and heart.” Standing before the tree, I’d hear words in my head that weren’t my own. I suspected the tree was actually speaking to me, and I began a journal of our conversations.
APRIL 6
The whole road.
I believe the tree means: “Walk the whole road, not just a piece of the road.”
The phrase is like a mantra. One could spend an entire day repeating: “The whole road. The whole road. The whole road.” And that day would be an auspicious one.
APRIL 19
Humans believe trees have no ambition, but that is untrue. Trees have one great desire: to grow. (Of course, they must be patient during winter.)
APRIL 24
Today the tree said, Teach yourself.
Only the greatest instructors encourage students to seek their own answers.
MAY 2
Do I worry that I am going insane? Certainly. On the other hand, it’s a fortunate type of insanity. My tree is not pursuing me with a dagger but merely offering gentle, oblique soul counsel.
MAY 5
Today, for the first time, I looked up at the top of my tree — about seventeen feet in the air. It was a gentle spring day, and her upper leaves were sunny and elegant. My arboreal friend is gorgeous. She reminds me of a young Gwyneth Paltrow.
MAY 6
I use the female pronoun for my tree merely as an approximation. My tree doesn’t strike me as male or female, but certainly not as a lifeless “it” either. “She” suggests my companion’s delicacy and intimacy.
MAY 9
Why would my tree talk to me? Perhaps she decided I was ready. Trees know when people can suddenly hear them.
MAY 15
Why doesn’t every tree confide in me? I’m not sure, but I’m relieved they don’t. A hubbub of tree voices would be maddening.
MAY 16
Berry-tickling, said the tree.
I’m not sure what this means, but it seems like a tree’s idea of a joke.
MAY 31
How long does a Norway maple live? How tall does it grow? Is it really from Norway?
JUNE 1
A Norway maple is “not a particularly long-lived tree,” says Wikipedia. Its maximum life span is 250 years. Its greatest height will be about thirty meters (ninety-eight feet six inches). Yes, the Norway maple is originally from Norway, but it’s also found in the rest of northern Europe.
JUNE 3
Why don’t trees have faces? Because a face is essentially a covering for a brain. The intelligence of a tree is not centralized but circulates liberally through its entire body.
If trees did have faces, people would love them more. Stores would sell calendars of cute trees next to ones of baby Labrador retrievers.
JUNE 5
I have not taken a poll, but I believe few New Jerseyites speak to trees.
JUNE 6
In 1973, while flunking out of Cornell University, I was given a battery of psychology tests. I scored 100 percent in only two areas: “heterosexuality” and “adventure.” But my counselor did not direct me toward a career of talking to trees. In fact, he suggested I become a member of the clergy.
JUNE 7
Perhaps we all have numerous invisible allies. Clocks, can openers, and vines might shower us with wisdom if only we asked.
JUNE 8
My tree friend is at the edge of the woods facing our house. Perhaps that’s why she speaks to me: she lives on the border between the human and plant realms. Deep in the forest, I suspect, trees cannot even understand English.
JUNE 9
Today I asked my tree if she objected to my writing about her. Of course not! she replied. Perhaps my maple wants to be famous — which is difficult to accomplish without a name.
JUNE 10
It suddenly occurred to me that I can name my tree. I will call her “Ellia.”
JUNE 11
“May I call you Ellia?” I asked the tree.
Yes! she shouted — if a tree can shout.
I wonder what Ellia means?
JUNE 12
According to thinkbabynames.com, Ellia is from Old German, a variant of Ella, meaning “other, foreign.” The website also indicates that Ellia has never been in the top one thousand American names for girls (not exactly a startling discovery).
Personal. Political. Provocative. Subscribe to The Sun and save 55%.
SHARE
