Cypress Embrace
Leaves of the Bald Cypress Tree
It is not uncommon for me to make my day up as it goes. To feel into the tides of energy that ebb and flow within me in order to feel any propulsion towards something. It was not always like this, and required years of gravitating toward the life that felt authentic to me.
Summer was at its peak and I, too, was at a threshold, a limitation of my own nervous system.
My daily excursions in the forest with the extra large Great Dane I was caring for had prompted more black bear encounters than I thought were possible for any one human. They were not mutually exclusive, one did not call to the other, yet I was the common thread and the bears have their own story that I will tell at another time.
I knew that my messages from nature were screaming at me louder than usual and I was doing my best to stay grounded, to stay in my body, to trust that I was exactly where I needed to be.
My internal compass was always leading with my heart and yet the return to the United States, to Western North Carolina, to the mountains from Thailand felt so disorienting. Tropical to subtropical. Ease-filled and simple to modern and expensive. It wouldn’t be fair to compare when there is beauty in all forms. And, I have been so blessed to have traversed so much of this Earth—alone and unencumbered by the wishes of anyone else.
I swallowed my daily dose of patience and kept all three of my eyes open to what might lead me to the next place.
The lake was a sweet respite at the end of the day and I would walk alone through the bird sanctuary and then circumambulate the lake either in silence or listening to gentle piano music. I was often pulled to explore various trees along the path. I came to know a Bald Cypress tree that would whisper to me and coax me into its folds. I would stand hugging the tree, arms stretched as wide as my tiny frame could muster and press my cheek against the rough bark. Without fail, tears would fall. My heart would beat harder and I recognized just how my aloneness from the prior 8 months had come to a head.
On one particular evening, my hug offered a frequency of need, of guidance and resolution. I pressed myself completely against the bark, without care if anyone walking by saw me.
I felt etheric arms wrap around me and softened my body more.
There were no strings attached to this hug.
There was no need to hold back.
There was no time limit.
It was an endless portal of love.
My breath began to coregulate with the Cypress and I felt the phytoncides trickling throughout my cells sparking a chemical reaction within the core of me. I became dizzy and the ground below me tilted on its axis as I melted farther into the tree. Space and time dissolved and with it the displaced sadness that had been nestled deep in my bones.
A wave of grief crested and fell. Then another.
An undercurrent of relief licked the edges. Then another.
“Am I dying? Is this death?” I asked the Cypress. “Are you taking me home now?” I asked telepathically.
There was a deep part of me that truly wanted this—wanted to be somewhere far away from the continuous suffering of this Earthly plane.
Cypress pulled me closer and as I expelled a bubble of air and felt my shoulders and back go limp, the top became the bottom and the bottom became the top. When I was finally sideways, floating between worlds, I knew my answer.
It was just as I had experienced a myriad of times before in the prior 2 years. Death was indeed happening as an invitation to new life.
I was well aware that while I had been dedicated to the full integration of myself as a spiritual being in a human body, which meant dancing with shadow, pain and dark, it was also time to fully detach from the gripping I had on the physical plane that still carried these same blueprints. I would need to say goodbye to the design of the world that I had existed in for the last 46 years in order to create the space for the new experience unmarred by my faulty lens. The distortion I was experiencing while in the embrace of Cypress was guiding my physical vessel into the new experience of transformation. I was having yet another experience of death and rebirth, but this time it was a visceral journey on a cellular level. I felt the initiation and pressed my forehead to the tree.
We danced together in this liminal space for what felt like hours, days, centuries.
After 5 or 10 tick-tock minutes, I slowly and methodically opened my eyes and wiggled my toes. I felt like I had dipped into a wrinkle in time and was fearful that I was no longer where I had once been. A breeze blowed one of the boughs towards me and I reached out to brush the leaves against my cheek and inhale the scent.
Tactile connection.
Sensory information to orient myself.
The sky felt more vibrant as I glimpsed the edges of the clouds. A gaggle of geese flew overhead. The sun painted the sky and I was earthbound once more.
This fateful meeting with Cypress was an augur with complex meanings. It was several weeks later that I left Asheville, NC and moved 35 minutes away.
It was 8 weeks later that Hurricane Helene ravaged Asheville, forever altering the landscape and the lives of thousands.
Were the bears and the trees encouraging me to leave so that I would not have to face the full devastation of this environmental disaster? While I was not unscathed, I was safe.
I continued to reflect upon this gentle guardian who so unassumingly became a part of my life.
Cypress trees have been revered in many civilizations, and written about in religious and archeaological texts. It has been called the tree of immortality and the symbol of the transition between life and death.
Perhaps as humanity reclaims its role as stewards of a planet that we are very much a part of, we will go through our natural transitions, keeping pace with the rhythm of the Earth and taking our cues from the plants and animals who so eagerly offer their wisdom if we choose to accept.
With humility, I recognize that what I thought I knew and what I hope to know may never be found out in this lifetime. Unlike the Bald Cypress who can live to up to 600 years, this little human body may only see up to 100, if I am lucky, if it is indeed my path.
I walked away from this experience utterly transfixed and in awe of the stories of life and death that I have yet to hear and tell. To culminate the experience, I stopped to help a man as he was emptying an overflowing trash can. We began to talk and I asked him if he knew the cypress. His eyes lit up as he shared the tale of how he and one other man planted that tree some 40+ years ago along with hundreds of others that surrounded the lake. A rush of gratitude lined my eyes with water as I shared my affinity for the tree and thanked him for planting it. He shared that he was the warden of the park while sharing more tales about growing gingko on his farm. His connection and pride for his stewardship gave me hope. This synchronistic meeting secured my deep knowing of the gift that Cypress brought to me.
I left wondering if this tree and I had been planted on this Earth at the same time and how it took a miracle of choices and winds blowing to bring us together for our meeting of soul and body.