This group is for those who would like to explore their sacred inner connections with TREES and learn more about how to work with tree consciousness in their daily lives.
Sharonlee, thank you so much for this beautiful poem. I had not heard the word "Dryads" before and so had to look it up to make sure I was understanding it's usage correctly in your poem. Such a beautiful expression of your intimate connection with nature, and your essential attunement to the devic kingdoms ... it has warmed my heart and soul, and taught me something *new* in the process. ~http://www.theoi.com/Nymphe/Dryades.html
I go among trees and sit still. All my stirring becomes quiet around me like circles on water. My tasks lie in their places where I left them, asleep like cattle. Then what is afraid of me comes and lives a while in my sight. What it fears in me leaves me, and the fear of me leaves it. It sings, and I hear its song.
Then what I am afraid of comes. I live for a while in its sight. What I fear in it leaves it, and the fear of it leaves me. It sings, and I hear its song.
After days of labor, mute in my consternations, I hear my song at last, and I sing it. As we sing, the day turns, the trees move. -Wendell Berry
Terri Benning
Sharonlee, thank you so much for this beautiful poem. I had not heard the word "Dryads" before and so had to look it up to make sure I was understanding it's usage correctly in your poem. Such a beautiful expression of your intimate connection with nature, and your essential attunement to the devic kingdoms ... it has warmed my heart and soul, and taught me something *new* in the process. ~http://www.theoi.com/Nymphe/Dryades.html
Jun 1, 2013
Terri Benning
Art by Moki
I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep like cattle.
Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of me leaves it.
It sings, and I hear its song.
Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
and the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.
After days of labor,
mute in my consternations,
I hear my song at last,
and I sing it. As we sing,
the day turns, the trees move.
-Wendell Berry
Jun 4, 2013
El*
Sep 14, 2016