The Invitation of Trees
30 June 2008
Philadelphia, PA
This morning something extraordinary occurred. It actually took me more than an hour to let it sink in before I could capture a bit of it here.
I was sitting with my breathing - inbreath Clear Mind, outbreath Don't Know. Gradually, I noticed how comfortable I was in my body. No urge to move. No itches or facial ticks. None of the twitching that has continued of late. I was just sitting with my breathing and watching my thoughts pass through me. From nowhere to nowhere.
Then I began to notice the sounds around me. The patterns of the birds chirping. Wonderful staccato rhythms. And then more melodious ones. I had an unusual sense that I was somehow expanding to incorporate these sounds. As if I were somehow reaching out beyond this small self. As if all that I was hearing was inside a larger self. Not at all like listening to the sounds. More like listening into them. Into this larger container that was me, yet more than me.
Then I began to notice more sounds. The painter sanding the windows of the big house across the commons. At least that is what it sounded like, although I "saw" no one like that inside the container. I heard a woman talking on her cell phone on the commons as well - a neighbor, although I didn't know who it was. I didn't hear the content, only the happiness in her voice. Since her happiness was now within this container, I was now happy. I felt more and more expansive. In touch with all that was around me, even though there was no longer any around to be around me.
Then I noticed the trees in the commons. I felt a connection to their roots and their ancient rootedness. I felt in touch with their breathing through the very ground itself. In that moment there was no difference between me and "them". Their roots were inside this container as well.
All of a sudden I felt a shudder go through me. It began in my feet and legs, and then moved up into my chest and shoulders. There was no mind. No meaning. No trauma. No joy. Or sadness. No reflection and no echo. Just a shudder that moved through me followed by a profound stillness. I lost touch with parts of my body, and yet didn't mind. I recall thinking that I still must have a thumb on my right hand, even though I couldn't feel it. The same with my feet. Not sensing. Not knowing.
Yet, it all seemed fine by then. The shudder had moved through and had a completeness to it such that even the memory of it now has so little hold on me. It occurred and then it was over.
At some point in there - I cannot recall how long after the shudder - I heard the sound of something crashing down. A really loud cracking sound. It seems odd to me now that I did not open my eyes to see what was happening "out there". It was a loud crack and then it was over. The woman on the phone was still chirping and so were the birds.
It was only later - after I had finished sitting - that I saw the arborist outside working on one of the large trees on the commons. What I had thought was the sound of the housepainter sanding the windows was actually the arborist sawing off the limb of that great, incredibly old tree.
I realized then that the shudder I felt was my experience of tree consciousness within the container. There was no mind, so there was no pain. And since there was no story and no preference, there was no suffering. There was only the shudder, which was like the reflection of the geese flying over the smooth surface of the lake.*
The tree was not trying to teach me anything. It just became my teacher by allowing me to feel its own consciousness. And even that thought is creating a layer of meaning that was not there at the time. The tree did not invite me to experience this deep awareness of no awareness. The tree just is an invitation. Just as the lake is. And the wild geese. Just as the river of diamond water where the coin got lost** - the river I am so afraid to go into.
Invitations all.
*The koan is:
The wild geese do not intend to cast their reflection,
The water has no mind to receive their image.
** This koan is:
The coin that is lost in the river is retrieved from the river.
(You can read more about about all this koan business here.)