“She learned a lot from the trees: how to stand her ground, how to weather a storm, and how to love the simple things most of all.”
Inspired by a prompt in my program, “Mapping & Mentoring with Marney,” I somehow disengaged from domestic duty and “work work” for a few hours to follow the inspiration of my dream. You see, when we ask and allow, our dreams (both waking and sleeping) tell truth. And when given the prompt, “My dream’s bright idea is ___________”, mine told me to “hug a tree and go on a ‘tree gate date”” – something I had learned and practiced with dream teacher, Robert Moss, and that I have not practiced in far too long. I eventually honored its request and went on a waking walking journey to the imaginal realm. Following my physical and spiritual meander, I wrote of my encounter….
“Healing self-guided tree gate date on the grounds of Transfiguration Spirituality Center. On my walk, I don’t know which one of the many amazing trees, but I intentionally seek affinity with a particular tree and trust it will be here on my path. I release judgment and revel in mystery – which one could it be? Sing-songy in my head I repeat, “I trust the tree – my tree for today- it will find me. I will know.”
And here she is – the one that holds the lone wooden swing, suspended by old fraying rope. She beckons me, ‘Sit. Swing.’ Ok.The afternoon bedazzles me with effortless perfection. I move from swing to ground, sitting right at the base of her trunk and lean in, lean in to the tree – the tree that picked me. I listen – frogs serenade me, and I inhale and gaze up – behold the magic of branches reaching up up up as whispy green leaves dance. Rhythmic croaks + the hum of the breeze. Mmmm…. and the bells in the nearby church tower, all with sacred names and unique tones, ringing in the Evensong. Pockets of bright blue mixed with dark rainy gray cloud sky peek through foliage. I exhaled, bring my head down, spy a sturdy little broken limb just next to my leg. I pick it up admiring how it is divinely speckled with natural purple spots. I place it back on the ground, close my eyes and go through the gate, into the majesty of she. Her ivy coated bark massages my back, holding me tenderly. Bright yellow and orange globs swirl behind my eyelids and I wonder about my aura, my energy, my light. I wonder if she lends me her sunshine energy – or might my energy also be pouring into her? Both? And how?
And then — then I remember to let go, trust, be. Questions come – questions for this tree – questions for their own sake, though – no need for answer.
“Do you have a name tree? And if you do, what might it be?”
INSTANTLY – it comes to me – through me. ‘Agatha. I am Agatha Tree. I am here; always here. Thank you for coming to me.’ She told me more, but that is for another day…..”
P.S. Later, I look up “Agatha” — Agatha \a-ga-tha\ as a girl’s name is pronounced AG-a-thah. It is of Greek origin, and the meaning of Agatha is “good, honorable”. Saint Agatha (third century) was a Christian who refused to marry a Roman consul, and was eventually martyred. She is the patron saint of bell ringers.
The patron Saint of Bell Ringers? Wow.