In October 1999, I attended a concert by renowned frame drummer, Layne Redmond. The moment I heard the frame drums played in procession as Layne and her troupe entered the auditorium, I was inhabited by a simultaneous gasp of delight and a sob; tears came to my eyes. Something profound had just happened to me. I was re||membered to something lost to me long ago, it was clear. Rhythm is heartbeat. Heartbeat is pulse. As Layne often reminded, we all form to the pulse of our mother’s heart beating while we grow in her womb. I would go on for another twelve years, training in hand drumming.
Today, I pulled out the root ball of a Norfolk Pine I can no longer nurse along in its undersized pot. I was amazed at the intricacy, the beauty of the ball, how it formed, wrapping a circular main root around itself four times like a symbol for seasons, before branching off into its secondary and tertiary roots. The soil was bound by the smaller roots into tight balls I had to break to pull the root free from its pot. When I got it out I thought what a brilliant work of art I was holding. I had already cropped the top of the tree and planted it in a small pot, hoping I can grow another, even in the promise that I won’t ever be able to root a Norfolk Pine in this way. Well. I will try.
As we have discussed often in the support group for dementia caregivers, the rejuvenating forces of nature are something to draw on when caregivers are under stress, as they often are, and for extended periods of time. One cannot attend the journey of a loved one traveling through dementia without experiencing and always managing the long-term stress that goes with it. A caregiver recently talked about her experience of hugging a tree and how this landed her squarely into her absolute sense that all are connected to the All. I have a tree in the park near me that I call Mama Oak. I greet her every time I pass. She is a massive tree with two opposing limbs that appear to be reaching out to hug whoever walks beneath her protective umbrage.
Trees are deeply primordial, and in many cultures the roots of the Tree are thought of as the umbilical cords of the Earth. They are many Mothers, Trees. Our belly buttons are a direct line to our human mothers, as trees are direct lines deep into our Earth. We are never far from our mother by our ability to always touch the place where once we were tied to her, rooted to her, as a tree is rooted to earth.
The Buddhist Monk Thích Nhất Hạnh taught when we suffer it is helpful to go outside and put our hand on the earth. Just bend down and place a palm on the ground, wherever we are. The energy is there, the pulse of who we are in association with the liquid movement deep within. We are only waiting to be re||membered to ourselves, the core of the Earth is also our core, as much as the Trees are core to Earth, as much as Earth itself is yet another pulse within the miracle that is the Universe, the Multi-Verse. This energy is nurturing. It re||members us. We re||member it.
So, when all feels lost, remember: Earth is waiting for you. Nature has its healing ways if you let Nature embrace you. In the ways we find to care for ourselves while enduring unreasonable levels of stress, take a little time to re||member who you are. Touch the Earth. Look up at the stars. Go out to sit beneath the full moon. Find your favorite tree and talk to Her. Walk in the sunlight. You are not alone. You are part of the All, and the All is ready to comfort you in any moment you choose.
