~ from Looking for Me by Beth Hoffman ~
My grandmother taught us to honor the woods, to enter its
wonders with respect. She told us to never intrude or cause any harm, saying we
were Mother Nature’s guests and to mind our manners. One afternoon the three of
us were hiking and came to an ancient black walnut tree. My grandmother stopped
and patted its rough bark. “A powerful healing force lives deep within these
woods. Whenever you children are hurting or can’t make sense of things, just
come out here and spend some time with the trees. Give their trunks a good
strong pat. When you go home, you’ll feel better.”
I pressed my small hand against the tree, looked up at
the sunlight filtering through the leaves, and absolutely believed her.
I believe her still.
And tonight, as I gazed into the dense woods, I took in a
slow breath and gratefully accepted whatever offering might come my way. I
thought about that old saying, how we can never go home again. But I think it’s
more like a piece of us stays behind when we leave – a piece we can never
reclaim, one that awaits our next visit and demands that we remember.
Caramoor, Katonah, NY
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