The dawn sky was dim and holy.
Day 15 of my tree puja. Full moon, snow on the mountain, winter silence is on the tree.
The tree becomes a projection of my mental state sometimes
Day 14 of my tree puja. In which I share my misery in the cold and wet. Oh well.
I offer my soft, warm breath
Day 13 of my tree puja. I realise things about the transformation of fire from the furnace of the sun, to the warmth of my breath.
The ground is like a full-soaked sponge, the water very cold. The sounds are of drips and drops and flowings. Everything is touched by rainwater…
Transformation is everywhere. It is the key to life.
Day 12 of my tree puja. It was my daughter’s 20th birthday. She was in London. I was southern Tasmania with the wintery tree.
As I squatted under her limbs, I felt my own limbs – legs holding me upright, strong, and true like the tree’s trunk, my arms free, like her branches…
The tree is silent, still, and receptive
Day 11 of my tree puja. I hear the sounds of silence, touch her bark and drink the rain.
In the drippy, damp dimness I listened to the sounds – water flowing in the drain, drops falling on leaves and from leaves, distant hum of traffic with Doppler effect…
The tree is never absent, but always silent
Day 10 of my tree puja. It’s the winter solstice, the longest night.
I visited the tree in the pre-dawn of the longest night…
She embodies Mother and silence.
Trees are the arms and hands of Mother Earth
Day 9 of my tree puja. I feel the tree as an aspect of Mother Earth.
The tree has continuity, which is a quality of Mother. Regardless of the child’s foibles the mother continues her work of love.
The tree stood silent under the moon
Day 8 of my tree puja. In which I offer the warmth of my body to the cold soil.
This morning, I went to the tree, which shone in the moonlight.
The tree is patient
Day 7 of my tree puja. I don’t quite get there.
This morning the tree excused me from visiting.
Tears are little but they have big causes
Day 6 of my tree puja. Emotions come and go, but the tree is always grounded.
This morning with my bare feet I stubbed my toe on a rock in the dark.
Tree, you bring me outside
Day 5 of my tree puja. It’s warm and cosy inside. I venture out to meet the winter morning.
You bring me outside to feel the dripping rain and sodden, rough ground.
The soil is the tree’s ocean
Day 4 of my tree puja. I’m back after some time away. It’s winter now.
I looked up and saw the bare hands of the tree, now that the leaves are all gone.
The tree has courage
Day 3 of my tree puja journal. I feel the courage of the tree and draw on that, as I need it today. There is a poem about bare feet.
Come to me with your feet bare,
And I will wash the dust of journeys past and now.
Trees wear no shoes
Day 2 of my tree puja journal. There is always an insight, a moment of truth and peace.
I looked up at the remaining leaves against the last of the night sky. A little breeze came, and the leaves and the breeze had a morning conversation. They talk in whispers and movement, through touch…
Trees contain the wisdom of God
The first day of my tree puja, 2009. It begins in the rain. And the rain goes on and on.
Last night it rained softly and there are traces of water running in dark lines on the tree trunk. It runs down her body and thence into the soil, having enjoyed her skin and the winding journey of her limbs before disappearing into the dark depths of soil and planet.
Puja ~ The Tree and Me
Tree puja (worship) is an Indian custom in which an offering is made to a tree. In 2009 I vowed to practice this ritual at dawn for one year. As the seasons passed, my relationship with the tree evolved.