Trees: What Stories Will We Choose to Tell?

In memory of the three majestic coastal redwoods that used to adorn this hallowed ground, at the center of our lovely apartment complex in northern California. May your story give us eyes to see.

This hill, ordinary as it may appear now, is a sacred space.

Up until recently, it was home to three majestic coastal redwood trees. 

Yes, the coastal redwoods that can live in their natural habitat for up to 3,000 years. Yes, the sequoia sempervirens, one of two California state tree species (along with the giant sequoias.) Yes, the redwoods… rich in tannins, with their gorgeous, thick, fibrous red bark, which protects them from disease and insect infestation and makes them less susceptible to fire…

We are extremely privileged to share a home with several of these wondrous beauties on our property.

Our elders.

But these three in particular were deemed by the power company to be in the way of their lines. 

So the trees were cut.

Stumps removed.

And now all that remains (visually) are three, faint circles of soft soil, with sprouts of new green grass providing a cover up of the extractions.

But for those of us who were witness to their majesty, and receivers of their life, shade, shelter and vitality, their story remains.

New residents here will forevermore only know this space to be an ordinary grassy hill. 

But for those of us who were lucky enough to share life here with the trees, this space will forever feel a bit like a graveyard. A space with a story to tell. Where three magnificent conifer altars once towered high above our buildings and landscape, providing a haven and refuge for many grateful people and creatures alike.

A shady space to sit and contemplate.

A refuge of solace for emotional phone calls.

A space to dwell among the squirrels, birds and other critters. (Evidenced by the peanut shells, corn kernels and other offerings that had been provided at the feet of the trees by attentive neighbors.)

A playground for hide-and-go-seek…

These majestic redwoods, each of them standing (what had to be) at least 100 feet or higher, were cherished.

They provided shade to nearby residents in the sweltering summers. 

They even granted a coast-like canopy to my beloved friends’ little vintage camper trailer, who were passing through on their way back to Oregon, and stopped in to stay a couple nights with my family.

To all who knew and absorbed their life, the majestic redwoods provided a sturdy serenity, a canopy of refuge, and an oasis of wisdom, vitality, and comfort.

They are dearly missed.

Sitting in the graveyard today, with the spirits of these beauties still covering over me, it got me thinking about the stories we choose to tell.

We humans are story formed, story-performing creatures. 

Uniquely, we are the only species who create meaning this way.

It is one of the most beautiful parts of humanity.

But it’s also, potentially, one of the most destructive. 

Because depending on who is telling the story, and what their motives and goals are (whether conscious or unconscious), we can find ourselves believing or accepting stories that bring great harm to others, or desecration to the natural world around us.

The story that was told about these three majestic trees was that they were a problem.

They were deemed - by our power company -  a potential hazard to the power lines. 

They were in the way.

They “had to go.”

Just the way of things, yea?

At least that’s the conclusion we’re led to believe.

But who is telling that story?

And what are their motives?

What’s their agenda?

In their version of the story, what is held sacred?

What is seen as disposable?

These are profoundly important questions we must ask ourselves.

All around us are narratives swirling about. 

Stories being told.

Stories competing against other stories. 

Stories with agendas.

Stories that will benefit some, to the great detriment and destruction of the many.

We are in a time where we are desperately in need of light to illuminate the stories.

To expose the agendas.

To expose the power brokers.

To expose who stands to benefit. 

And to illuminate what is at stake.

To illuminate those who will suffer. 

To illuminate cost; to shed light on what we stand to lose. 

Today, my elders, the redwoods, are calling me into focus. Are offering me a reminder.

Their wisdom, their spirit is here to teach us.

To compel us. 

To warn us.

They were sacrificed because of a particular story that holds great power, and makes a small handful of people a lot of money. 

Sometimes this story is mistaken for progress.

Sometimes it’s mistaken as a noble means of provision, caring for customers. 

The primacy of keeping the electronics lit up (with as little corporate expense as possible).

But what is real?

What are we willing to sacrifice for our stories? What destruction will they cause? What is lost? Who and what are discarded?

I hope you’ll join me in these times in asking these questions.

I beg you.

Implore you.

Ask the questions.

Sit. Ponder. Read. Listen…

Especially for the people, and the non-human life, who are consistently marginalized, taken advantage of, enslaved, villainized and discarded. 

Pay attention to the fucking narratives that operate this way.

The stories that make excuses for destruction and chaos for the benefit and gain for a select few.

Let us band together for the common good.

Let us unite around the pursuit of a better world, centering the full, diverse and beautiful humanity of others, and the care of mother earth, from whose soil we all emerge, and will return to in time.

May the Spirit of Love and Life, the Creator (who is in and over and through all things) guide us into all truth, wisdom, harmony and goodness.

And may we remember the redwoods.

Rest in peace.

What story are you holding close today? Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear what has captured your heart and imagination this day.