Breathing with Trees – Words of the Land

Trees are our big billowy brothers (and sisters!). They don’t talk, but they move lightly, with surprising grace and expression. They converse with substantial, silent forces of air, water and sunlight.

Swaying trees inspire a quiet well-being in me, and energize me at once. I feel a slight charge, an excitement seeing a tree in the drift of air – and I feel myself settle into my own bones, too. Watching trees in the breeze I breathe deeply as well, spontaneously. My body relaxes, my mind un-tenses.

When the breeze hushes and the trees go motionless, the sense of peace remains, even deepens. It’s a quiet fullness, an at-rest-ness.

No matter how massive the trunk may be, or how grand the limbs, there’s an extraordinary sense of weightlessness to the body and being of a tree. The tree stands still, but appears to loft upwards. The whole motion of a tree’s form is upward and outward. Far from feeling ponderously heavy, trees often seem lighter than the air, ready to float skyward if they weren’t rooted so inarguably to the earth. It’s the direction of the energy, the inclination of the growth, the upward flow of sap, and their constant commerce with sky.

I like to breath with trees. Of course trees themselves are always breathing. The whole leaf surface of a big tree laid out on a single plane is a huge area nearly as large as a football field. This giant lung inhales carbon dioxide and exhales oxygen steadily, rhythmically. I wish I could hear it.

I like to breathe along with the tree, filling my lungs in the inverse with their exhalation, aware I’m taking in what they’ve recently given out, and conversely giving out what they will shortly be taking in.

I often do this while I walk among them, but I even do it when I’m driving. It’s energizing and relaxing at once. Try it. There’s nothing to it. Simply breathe deep while looking at a tree. Breathe with the tree. Sound crazy? Just try it.

You may find yourself with the sudden sensation of ascending up the trunk with the sap or life force of the tree. You may find yourself descending, with your exhalation, into the still, cool ground, into a matrix of ten thousand roots, to find clear water there.

On the other hand you may find yourself moving up, beyond the tree, into the sky, to feel the expanse of air that plays lightly over the fifty thousand leaves. It’s easy and can be done with the next tree you see. Whatever you experience, I bet it will leave you feeling fresher, bigger, lighter and calmer – and maybe more connected to the world around you.

Read the Poem of the Week: Wind