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Roots of Life
Some years ago, my husband, our two small daughters and I were camping,
as we often do, on the west coast of British Columbia, Canada. On a summer
day we were walking a narrow dirt path beside one of those streams, so
common to our coast, that flow from the forest into the ocean. The forest
was lush, lush green, with huge ferns and cedar trees. Sunlight filtered
casually down through the treetops to the brown velvet forest floor strewn
with tree debris.
Still inside the cover of the forest, just before the stream met the
open sands of the beach, we approached a huge, fallen cedar lying parallel
to the trail. The giant tree, perhaps blown over in a winter storm, had
peeled back the earth, and a chunk of the forest floor now stood sideways
in the air, its highest edge a story above our heads.
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As I looked at this upturned tree, admiring its huge, splaying, earth-covered
roots, I was struck by the similarity of these forms to the human placenta.
I observed how the roots of the tree spread through the circular clod
of upturned earth like the red and blue veins that filter, root-like,
through the circular, mushy, blood-filled mass of the placenta. In a pregnant
woman, the placenta is attached to the inside wall of her enlarged uterus
home to her growing baby. Like a grand communicator, the placenta and
umbilical chord define the paradox of connection, yet separation of two
bodies. It is a continual dialogue of blood, a liquid abundant stream
of lifes fluid and necessary substance between mother and baby.
Often in my midwifery work, people had expressed their disgust at the
placentas blood filled mass. Now I wondered if, upon seeing this
sacred cedar, people would understand the life-giving mystery of the placenta.
These roots reached into the earth mother, just as we reached for nourishment
into the bodies of our own mothers, through the root-like veins of the
placenta. Form within form, transforming form, a synchronicity of forms
where oxygen and nutrients are transported from mother to child, from
earth to green fronds of the cedar tree and back again, a continual dialogue
of liquid love, respiration, lifes regeneration and gift, held and
offered by the mother.
Starhawk, an American earth and social justice activist and witch-woman,
led a tree meditation in a workshop I attended. Through trance, I experienced
how the trees occurred and developed as beings on Earth earlier than mammals.
Over the millennia, trees absorbed and transformed atmospheric conditions,
shifting the available oxygen supply for other living beings. Mammals
began to thrive and avail themselves of this finely tuned balance of oxygen
and carbon monoxide, the measured breath of soft fleshy lungs. We breathe
out carbon monoxide, trees breathe it in, trees breathe out oxygen, we
breathe it in in and out, an invisible dialogue of life-fulfilling
dimensions.
The symbolic ritual of incarnation is a story
written in the female body, and in the hidden roots of trees.
Our human breathing has grown past our own lungs and into the engines
of our creations, the cars, machines, factories, and big smokes
we call cities. And we are cutting down the trees to fuel this mechanical
breath, cutting too soon our umbilical cord to Mother Earth, our source
and literal ground of being. This is so like a birth where the baby's
umbilical cord is clamped and cut before the blood has stopped pulsing
between mother and child. This cutting stops the flow of oxygen from mother
to child and creates an artificial need for resuscitation: rub that baby,
get that mask, pass that oxygen tank. Cut the ancient connections of women
and trees, our common ancestors, our awareness of the earthy conditions
in which we need to live or restore those connections. The
symbolic ritual of incarnation is a story written in the female body,
and in the hidden roots of trees.
Graphics Credits
- Fallen Tree at Stanley Park, ©
2007 patti
donnahee. All rights reserved. Used with permission.
- Upearthed Tree at West Hylebos Wetlands
Park, © 2008 singingjana.
All rights reserved. Used with permission.
- Waiting for the Placenta, courtesy
of premasagar.
Published under a Creative
Commons license.
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