Teacher Trees: Six Lessons

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And just like that, fall has arrived. The flip of the switch, like only the Midwest can do, with a good old fashioned thirty degree temperature drop in less than 24 hours.

 

Yesterday, September 22nd, marked the fall equinox. Equal parts light, equal parts darkness and the official start of autumn.

 

Here in Chicago, clouds, rain, leaves whirling and coats arrived on the dot. I went for a long walk in the rain with a latte from my place around the corner.

 

I happily enjoy being back to “regular” status these days as COVID continues to allow me to go in person. So I grabbed my latte that I did not need to order and went on my merry way.

 

Hood up, leaves falling and crunching and not many in sight - I love a good walk in the rain. Throw in an abrupt season change and I’m in heaven!

 

Each time I walk on a dreary day, I hear this song echo in my heart:

 

“Deep in the hundred acre woods

Where Christopher Robins plays

You find an enchanted neighborhood

Of Christopher’s childhood days”

 

Can you hear it too? On these fall days I am transported to a vivid scene from childhood of the hundred acre woods as the trees willow and billow. I like it there.

 

As I strolled in the rain, I took notice of the trees. They almost were tapping me on the shoulder with their moves, shakes and leaves.

 

I nodded to the willow tree in my neighborhood park and touched it’s bark. A grounding ritual this tree and I do often. We’re friends like that.

 

I looped around without a care and landed back at my place. Showered, sweater-ed and fall candle burning I noticed the trees through my windows.

 

I call my apartment my “Tree House” because it’s surrounded by old, big and beautiful trees. This is rare in the city.

 

Even more rare, if you look at the sidewalk in front of my stoop, you can clearly see that the sidewalk was made to curve around the big tree in front.

 

I love this and people point it out all the time upon seeing it for the first time. It’s one of those moments where I want to high five humanity. Like, “Hey, amazing job! For once we chose to co-exist with nature instead of destroy it!”

 

In times where humanity seems to earn a big thumbs down too often, I relish these moments.

 

Through every window in my place, the presence of a wise, old tree is there.

 

Each summer they drop a ton of acorns that my neighbor Liz and I joke about as we sweep our hearts out day after day.

 

Every fall they drop their leaves, again we joke - “How many more bags of leaves do you think?”.

 

They add chores and joy all at the very same time. We are enveloped in their cycles and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

I am struck by how much simply observing a tree has to offer. They do so much without thought or effort that we humans struggle to grasp.

 

They stand tall, they let go, they even make wind visible. How do they do all of that?

 

Trees are teachers.

 

Trees are wise and they have inordinate amounts to teach us if we simply watch them exist.

 

These teacher have been sending me very specific messages as we transition to autumn. Six lessons, to be exact.

 

Each of which I experience as a pillar on which a mindful, gentle and loving life can be lived.

 

-

 

Trees teach me how to let go.

 

Isn’t it amazing how trees just drop things that no longer work or serve them in a positive way?

 

The color drains from the leaves and then poof, no drama, no back and forth, no hem or haw - they simple drop them.

 

How beautiful.

How simple.

 

It’s a masterclass for life.

 

Instead of grasping, contorting or arguing with reality, trees teach me how to let go when it’s time. And in the letting go, fertile space is created for new to be born.

 

However, new does not arrive immediately. There is a hibernation and growth period before harvest - just another masterclass for life in itself.

 

 

Trees bring feelings into plain sight. They show me feelings are real.

 

Many times when I see a tree blow and whistle in the wind, I think of the Nicholas Sparks quote:

 

“Love is like the wind, you can’t see it, but you can feel it.”

 

I close my eyes and feel the wind. I know it’s there because I can feel it.

 

Trees, however, not only feel it. They show it proudly through their dance.

 

With wind trees teach me that what I feel is real. It may not always be visible to the naked eye, but it’s there. It’s alive. It’s present. And, it’s powerful.

 

Trees teach me and remind me - feeling it is just as meaningful as seeing it. Maybe more.

 

With each wisp they encourage my soul.

 

 

Trees show the power of ritual and cycles.

 

Trees are incredibly consistent. Have you ever known a fall where the leaves didn’t drop? Or a spring where no leaves bloomed?

 

Me either.

 

Trees are part of an innate rhythm and cycle of life and creation. They show me how important each part is and how it’s always ever changing.

 

Trees teach me non-attachment, the power of rituals that support different moments in cycles and the truth about creation.

 

Trees remind me to lean in to these important parts of life. Whether it’s a fall cleanse of my closet, wrapping myself in my Nana’s quilt, a family recipe, latte walk or even stillness in winter.

 

They send me away from social media and back to my cyclical spiritual self. A loving trajectory adjustment I always appreciate.

 

 

Trees teach me that separation is an illusion.

 

Our culture has been built based on either ignoring nature or straight up abusing nature in an effort to create what humans want to create. Both are out of integrity and both are untrue.

 

The idea that we are separate from mother earth is a big fat illusion.

 

Whether it’s the pitter patter of the trees hitting my window during a storm, the thousands of acorns that grace my porch or the piles and piles of leaves I walk through each fall - trees are part of my life.

 

They are a reminder that we are all living together. We co-exist.

 

In a world that pretends this isn’t true, trees keep teaching and reminding me that separate is an illusion.

 

We are connected. The earth, all humans, all beings. We are one.

 

 

Trees teach me that when grounded, they can weather any storm.

 

Tornadoes, five feet of snow, viruses, violent protests, and beyond - the trees stand there.

 

Sure they may bend and shake and twist about, however, they stand. And they stand tall.

 

Trees show me that when you’ve got deep roots, a solid core and a firm foundation, any storm can we weathered.

 

My meditation, my breath-work, my yoga, my mindfulness, my connection with my highest self and the beautiful people around me - these are my roots.

 

When I’m grounded in my roots, I can weather any storm rather than be whisked away or snapped in two.

 

I see this lesson play out on repeat in my life. Thank you, trees, for leading the way.

 

 

Trees show me that darkness is fertile.

 

When trees release what no longer serves them, they create open space on their branches and recede into the darkness of winter.

 

During this period of darkness and hibernation, it’s so easy to feel like nothing is happening. However, so much is happening!

 

The darkness and quiet is when the space, vessel or life is being nourished and resting in order to support new life.

 

It’s an integral part of the process and is something I tend to want to skip over.

 

I’m eager to see the next thing through. Sometimes, even when I’m opposing the greater forces at be!

 

Trees show me how beautiful and necessary this part of life is. And, may I say, doesn’t it feel good to rest?

 

Just like the darkness of a new moon, the darkness that trees move through is where miracles are born.

 

Darkness is fertile. Darkness delights and ignites. Darkness is magic.

 

-

 

Thank you, trees,

Thank you, mother nature.

Thank you, earth.

Thank you, world, for your lessons.

 

May this shift your perception of trees.

 

What would it be like to view them as sage teachers of the world we get to live in?

 

What would it be like to know them as a masterclass in motion?

 

What would it be like to receive their lessons and follow suit in your own way?

 

Trees are teachers.

 - 

In all I do, I seek to embody ways of conscious living and share them with others so that they can live a fulfilled, peaceful, loving and healthy life. Basically, the life that they dream of, desire and deserve.

 

I do this through 1:1 yoga, 1:1 conscious creation coaching and my creation, Mindful Music. Starting in November, I will be adding 1:1 breath-work sessions to my offerings. If you’re interested in working with me in one of these containers, please reach out here! I currently have spaces available for 1:1 yoga and coaching.

Interested in booking Breath-work for November? Reach out and I’ll add you to the waitlist!

 

COMING SOON: A month long meditation experience with me beginning in October. Details will be released next week. Want to be the first to know? Subscribe to my newsletter and receive the info in my Mantra Monday email on 9/27!

 

-

 

“When the student is ready, the teacher appears”.

Lao Tzu

 

Dear Trees,

 

I’m ready!

 

In love, trees and pursuit of a better world,

Adrienne

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Leveraging the Power of Your Mind: Micro Shifts for Macro Change