“And who will stand with us?”- A message from the Trees

Earlier this week, my love and I went off on one of our day-off adventures. Hopped in the vehicle, set off and go, and then asked- Left or Right? Washington, or Oregon? Usually, when we are in the need of a mini-escape, we choose Washington, so we can have the pleasure of driving across the Astoria-Megler bridge that spans the mouth of the Columbia as she opens up, singing out in all her glory to the ocean.
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We ended up not being able to go into the National Parks (oops! Closed for Virus...) and found ourselves hunting down a back trail to Black Lake, an unusual spot we had hiked the South end of once before. ⠀⠀
Hiking the perimeter of the Lake, we noticed a deadened energy. Silence, stillness, grief. The trail split off into the deeper woods...and we followed our instincts to go deeper. Cliff said, “it feels like people USE that trail, and WALK this one.” I loved the truthful simplicity of the statement. There was already a big energy shift as we discovered some beautiful Sitka Spruces, and some oddly bent trunks and branches that had the whispers of the mystical around them. ⠀⠀

As we followed this trail uphill, it finally gave way to an open expanse of...clear cuts. We saw a little red squirrel chomping on an acorn and made offerings. Then I laid on the moss that grew on top of the fallen branches, feeling that grief in my bones. We felt into the sadness of the trees, how they are farmed here, no better than chickens in an industrial coop, robbed of their ecosystems and biodiversity and filled with invasive species competing for survival in what will inevitably be farmed again in another fifty years...
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Wait- what about that word- “inevitably”...? Is it possible, that there is another choice available to us? I feel the trees asking us to explore this now, and it is not a gentle ask- it is a cry, a plea, a pledge. They seem to say- “and who will stand with us, when they come to cut us down? Will you? Will YOU?”....
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Their cries- echolations rustling up the bark of me, shaking up the fear debris of past life trauma, where all I had was taken from me... my home...the forest.

We continued our walk and the clear cuts gave way into full grown woods, which eventually peetered off into...an industrial Cranberry farm? Cliff said “The video game of this hike sure has us experiencing every level”.
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“I know, we’re like Grand tournament champions” I joked, in attempt to lift some of the heaviness as we approached the field of bogs. ⠀⠀

Curious, innocent, naive- I said “ooh let’s go look!” and plunged toward the bog- no sooner than I saw the little metal spout, did I feel, smell, and taste a huge wave of pesticides hit my sinuses, my throat, and the roof of my mouth instantaneously. ⠀⠀

I spent the rest of the car ride home, sending healing energy to my head, which instantly came down with a headache, mitigating the deep feelings of violation conjured by this encounter. ⠀⠀
Cliff shared with me that 99% of the produce in the US is either GMO or inorganic. (A fun fact from his job at Natural Grocers). Experiencing the instant assault of those pesticides outright was fairly triggering, especially to someone who grew up with undiagnosed food sensitivities that were/are the result of hormone and pesticide use in food. ⠀⠀

In my first Ayahausca ceremony grandmother showed me how the pesticides and hormones in food had created an entity-pattern of quantity over quality- in terms of human thought patterns. That the energy of mass growth and consumption had also consumed the consumer. I had entered the psyche and hunkered down, making me live my whole life like it was some giant race of production. ⠀

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I experienced for the very first time, life is not a race, and this sickness is not me. This sickness is something living in the food I’ve been eating my whole life, that is not inherent to it. Much like many other elements of our society that are currently up for deep review and revision, now that the “great race” has come to a halt. ⠀⠀

Yes, we will be seeing, stewarding, and cultivating many revolutionary changes in the years to come. This is truly the gift of being here at this time. To embrace this steady weaving of revitalization and reclamation of culture.