Unwelcome Dream

I awakened today weeping. My chest heaved from sobs that brought me out of the dream.

When I was a child, I had a favorite hickory tree whom I often climbed. Although her lowest limbs were a good six feet off the ground, I managed to shinny up so I could hang upside down from those sturdy branches. This jovial tree never seemed to mind that she was my personal monkey bars. In my dream, this tree had grown tall and mighty, but her life was being threatened. Many of my other childhood tree friends were already gone in the dream.

I climbed high in her branches, chained myself to her, and began to shout to those who waited to take her life that I would not let them. I pleaded with them as a crowd of neighbors gathered, and soon someone called the news station. As I spoke passionately to the people there, I could not hold back the tears. I began to sob uncontrollably. This yanked me out of the dream, my chest still heaving as I held my hand over my heart.

The trees of the world are crying out to us as surely as the ones who wept as our neighbors cleared the land all those years ago when I was overwhelmed with the understanding that I had to write Grandfather Poplar (see blog at https://grandfatherpoplar.com/2015/12/08/65/). It’s time to save our friends who offer us so much. ðŸ’šðŸŒ³ðŸŒ²

Grandfather Poplar, the novel, is available on Amazon at http://bit.ly/GrandfatherP.

Lost in the woods

There’s a stretch of road on my way to and from the office that goes by a nature preserve. The overlighting consciousness of that forest, which some call its Deva, spreads her energy outward to encompass the whole area. Even the subdivisions nearby are filled and surrounded with long-standing trees—all of whom were once a part of her forest—and her energetic boundaries still extend through those places that echo with the memory of life before the world invaded her sanctuary.

My husband and I call this place “the zone,” because as we drive through the area we may well forget where we are. Such is the strength of presence of this forest Deva.

After work I often like to sojourn in those woods and walk along the creekside trails or wander up the bluffs, and the Deva always welcomes me as one who holds her dear. Although this preserve is small now compared to the vastness of the forest long ago, the presence of elemental consciousness and the invisible dwellers of the woodland abound in this place as purely as it ever did.

Sometimes I get lost in the woods. Not literally, of course, for I know those pathways well, but I let go of the world of man there and allow myself to step outside of time and simply be. Sometimes my consciousness drifts on the stream or soars to the treetops or sinks into the earth beneath me. When I make my way back to the car, minutes or hours may have passed without my notice, and I am renewed beyond measure in the sense of my true self.

I invite you to go to the forest and lose track of time. Become one with clouds and stones and trees. Listen to the singing water and the laughing breeze and remember who you are.

Magenta Rays

magentasunlightbrook

Magenta rays filtered through the trees
Reflect in your waters of pure peace;
Here in the woodland I swim the seas
Of earthly wonders that never cease.
Pines above supply a silken screen
For each ray that wafts into this dream;
Its solar song lighting your sweet green
In soft hues that glimmer in your stream.
Here I live in your serenity
Bathed in your soundless, soothing light;
Here I claim my true identity
In this place that beckons me to flight.
All illusion now I leave behind;
Each step into your depths the world unwinds.
Here in your embrace no more confined,
Spirit merges with my heart and mind.
And I am one with you beyond time
In this paradise, this sacred shrine,
Among clouds and trees and Earth sublime,
As light and love and grace forever shine.

© 2016 L. Diana Henderson
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