The Poetry of Trees

"Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky." - Kahlil Gibran

I was thinking about the fear, anger, bloodthirst, and madness of so many humans on the planet right now. Why are so many people killing other people? Why are so many people committing suicide? Why are so many people giving up on living a joyful life?

Perhaps people need a manual on how to live a joyful life?

There are a gazillion self-help books out there. Why don’t people bother to read them?

What is lacking here?

If I may be so bold, I believe the disconnection from nature may be at the root of it.

One of my oak tree buddies

Before the planet began buckling from the weight of eight billion people - EIGHT. BILLION. PEOPLE. - indigenous people here in California existed for 9,000 years by living in harmony with the land. Here in San Diego County, the Kumeyaay people’s relationship with oak trees sustained them. Acorns that fell during the Autumn season sustained them for a year.

Take a look.

I am not suggesting that we return to a life of grinding acorns on granite slabs. But how about taking a day to walk in the forest, enjoy the songs of the birds, the way sunlight plays on the leaves. Add a trickling stream or a roaring river and revel at the movement of the water, the flitting dragonflies and butterflies, the arias of the frogs. But mostly, breathe in the oxygen.

Me and a very old oak tree buddy

Those who spend precious hours in a Dilbertian dystopia are the most in need of a day in Nature. Don’t do it for me. Do it for you.