Winter Blessings and Beauties, Day 3: Winter Tree Meditation

 

It's a cold, bright beautiful day here. The wet, stormy weather of the last few days has at last departed, leaving in its wake a brisk blue sky with a definite nip in the air.

It has also left a lot of bare branches. The leaves seemed to hang on for a long time this autumn, perhaps because until now it's been pretty mild. I've enjoyed watching the colour changes, as the world has gradually been re-made in copper and gold. At the end of each day, when I haven't been working I've made a point of going out to watch the sunset, noting at the same time the gradually changing palette of the valley. 

Now most of the leaves have gone - a few still hang on - and I realised this morning for the first time that I've never really paid attention to the order in which the trees lose their leaves. Every spring I watch the woods and hedgerows for the first splashes of colour (usually the yellow powder puffs of willow catkins and then the bright green of hawthorn leaves). But in autumn I watch the leaves colour and fall but don't pay the same attention. This morning I have noticed that it seems to be mostly the oaks and beeches which are still holding their bronzed leaves while the neighbouring trees are almost completely denuded. A few hazels still have foliage - some even have some green leaves - but this may be due to their more sheltered positions. Do any trees still have leaves where you are?

This year I am appreciating the simple beauty of bare branches silhouetted against the sky. I love the pliancy with which they bend in the wind, the graceful resilience with which they withstand whatever the elements send their way. There are many lessons we could learn from trees.

Winter Blessings and Beauties: Day 3

Winter Tree Meditation

Stand with your feet hip width apart. Take some slow, deep breaths. Notice where you may be holding any tension in your body - shake it out and relax. Continue to breathe slowly and deeply. 

Now imagine your body is a tree. Your toes curl roots down into the earth beneath you. Your legs and torso are a sturdy trunk, supporting the branches of your head and arms. Raise your arms in the air like branches and let them sway gently in the breeze. Imagine any worries or negative thoughts or stresses as leaves which no longer serve you. Sway your branches and as you do, let these unwanted leaves go, swirling softly to the ground where the natural processes of the earth transform them into compost to nourish new growth. 

What else do you need to let go of? What no longer serves you? Imagine each thing as a leaf on one of your branches, and when you are ready let it go, gently and easily. It is time. 

How light do your branches feel now that all those unwanted leaves have been shed? Feel the strength and flexibility you now have. Imagine how easily you can withstand any storms that come your way now that you are no longer weighed down by those dead leaves.

Feel the life force that still pulses within you. And feel how, where each dead leaf was once attached to your branches, a new, small bud has formed. Once you have cleared away those things which are no longer needed, there is space for new and wonderful things to grow in their place. What kind of bright and beautiful new leaves will you choose to grow in the coming months?

When you are ready, take a deep slow breath and come back to your human body, drawing your roots back up from the earth where they become human toes again, patting your legs and arms and head and torso where they have become a soft, strong human body again. Say your name aloud three times.

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When you can, put on your coat and go out to find a tree which has shed its leaves in readiness for the winter. Look closely at its twigs. This years leaves may be gone, but buds - each one a promise of the greening of spring - are already there.