Sheltered by creation

{Essay} On the wisdom of the forest.

What can we learn from trees about nurturing our creativity and living true to our purpose? As always when I’m feeling particularly lost or uninspired, I turn to the forest for comfort. Let me take you with me on one of my daily walks among the trees, and show you how their wisdom speaks to me.

As far as I can see and as tall as I can see - trees. Nothing but their green familiarity surrounds me on this path. Their presence is daunting yet comforting, and for the briefest moment all I can do is look in awe as they hold me gently and remind me once again that I am no less part of this earth than they are. A light drizzle makes its way across the sky: inconvenient for me, sustenance for the trees. We exist together in this moment, opposing desires, yet a common creator.

Much like art, trees can grow exponentially if conducive conditions occur: the right soil for seeds to grow; enough water, not too much sun; moving effortlessly with the seasons as though they are wired to do so - which they are, as are we. I am reminded once more that nature gives without expecting anything in return; that just like all of her creations, we will grow under the right conditions, always facing the sun, and that nothing - nothing - happens without a reason. Even through the darkest of days, a sapling will evolve into a full-grown tree.

That is not to say this is effortless. Trees are guided by cycles refined over millions of years in an ecosystem that is designed for them to flourish. As human beings living under capitalism, we do not have this luxury. Yet whatever cosmic motives guide the cycles of nature, the universe will move mountains for us to reach our potential, if only we dare reach for it. And as I continue my journey along this path of trees, I wonder if there ever was an oak tree that spent its life wishing to be a birch instead, but I conclude it must have been wise enough to see how futile that would be.

Taking back the liberty of existing in harmony with nature, for the simple reason that we are part of her cycles and wisdom, made of stardust and vastly outnumbered by trees or even the grains of sand that grace our planet, is a radical act in a world where nothing is considered valuable unless it is profitable. Yet I firmly believe that as artists, we are intrinsically part of the cosmic web that guides all creation, from the seeds that grow saplings and trees to the very words I write.

Because, truth be told, most of what I consider to be my best writing has come to me simply out of the blue. A poem does not come into existence by actively thinking of it. As artists, our job is to sit, and give our creative intuition space to work its magic. Does that mean there is no effort in this, no personal touch at all? No - that couldn’t be further from the truth.

In everything I write, I see layers and layers of past experiences and past selves. I hear echoes of books I’ve read, shapeshifting in the maze of my brain to morph into something that is me. Lines that I wrote as a teenager sometimes come back to me in new textures and forms. It is a cognitive process only to a certain extent. When I write, my soul speaks.

A Norwegian maple tree, its leaves in the middle of change and renewal, spotted on one of my walks.

I listen to the soft rustling of leaves in the wind, and I realize that it is not merely about being part of nature, but about submitting to her, too. There are forces that guide every single thing in the universe, and they are beyond our control. Our bodies are wired in ways that are not for us to decide on. Why else do we sleep when it’s dark and rise with the sun? Our job is always simply to make space for whatever it is that seeks to move through us. How often have I wished that I could move mountains, that I could grab a pile of rocks and force it in any given direction, that I could make heaven and earth give me exactly what I want and when I want it. Living in this way is fruitless and does not amount to much, other than a lot of wasted effort.

Everything we need to know, and everything we need to be, is already out there. It’s hidden in trees, written in stars, whispered by the sea. Our job is to uncover it, holding ourselves gently in the miracle of creation and the vast wisdom of the universe. And as the sound of rain grows louder yet only the lightest of rain drops touch my skin, I sit briefly in silence knowing I am - now, and always - sheltered by creation.

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