Befriend a local tree. ᵈᵒ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ

I’ve never felt this way before—I’ve been distraught, felt despair, I’ve felt the constant doom at the impending destruction of Armageddon (flashes of childhood). But this new feeling is so funky and not in a groovy way. It’s taken a while for me to find a word for it.

I’ve lived below the surface before—submerged in a darkness—without drowning and without being too fearful. Recently, I’ve felt tossed into rapids, and the currents are a rampage of dread. DREAD.

What beliefs are being buried into my bones? My personal life is the happiest it’s ever been—a sustained joy and profound love.

People have always been suffering—I’ve always been attuned and sensitive to it—those I see and those far from me—so why now do I have this sense of dread?

I think there’s a subversive attack on dreams—dreams as hope, an individual's sense of space and autonomy, a collective care for a shared compassion and a dreamer’s subconscious healed through deep rest and a baseline of goodness. Subversive, you may say? Isn't it outright and obvious—it’s dreadful and terrifying and yes yes yes, but for many it’s always been that way.

Note: Don’t get swept up in this current. Don't let the wave of dread wash your dreams away.

I went for a walk last night and found a new local body of water—a pond with a tree in its centre, a home for many white cranes. As I kept my eyes fixed on the water, the light slowly faded, and my eyes burned and teared up—not with psychic tears but from the physicality of the gaze. I could feel as the refraction of ripples of water and light washed away a film on my eyes—like wiping out a coding, a faulty code, a computer's bug.

Emotional regulation and caring for our mental health is an inside job, but it doesn't mean we can do it all alone at all times.

We now know that nature is healing—it’s not an alternative or optional mode of healing, it is paramount and essential.

What beliefs are being buried into my bones? They’re not from me, of this I’m sure; alien ideas of alienation, but they’re humming, low, all about, and of late they seem to be more and more constant. To fight against them would be a losing battle? Maybe not for you, but for me right now it would. Sometimes we can slice through and break down the fog, but right now I need to deflect and rest, to be impenetrable—not as a solid wall of defence, but as a fluid being of light that still observes but doesn’t allow the fog to be absorbed.

The dampness of dread can seep in subtly and undermine a dreamer’s foundations—an outright attack can be fought against, but a subliminal ambush can make you crumble slowly without your knowing. Fortify your foundations with the aid of a tree.

I wrote a little children’s blog a few months back and have decided to practice some of the ideas shared.

1. Befriend a local tree.

Ever stare into the eyes of a tree and feel them looking back at you? What if souls passed, rest in trees while they’re planning their next journey—gathering in a trunk, looking back out at life. Many souls or one, one or perhaps none—a tree’s life force without that of a once-human presence is what we can talk of here.

Look at the crooked and twisted branches of a tree. Do you think their inner dialogues would embrace clear-cut polarities that don’t allow opposing ideas to intermingle? Find a local tree to befriend—spend some time with it, meditate together, tell it your ideas and be glad if it disagrees. (Don’t be afraid to disagree with yourself.) It won’t whip you with a branch and say what’s right and what’s wrong—but it will whisper wisdom to you, maybe not as words but in a way still heard. Don’t be so quick to defend your thoughts. Your life isn’t actually reliant on them—it may feel that way, but it’s not.

You can change your mind and keep living. A change of belief won’t stop your body from breathing, and it may even allow your soul to breathe better. Don’t follow fear—even if it’s known and tangible. Surrender to an unknown. This doesn't mean you have to frazzle yourself in an abyss—that’s why trees are such magnificent teachers—they’re grounded and rooted. You can stabilise yourself with them as you surrender.

The more you practice surrendering, the more at ease you’ll feel, and the fear will subside into a gentle humility and an awe of life.

Abrupt change can feel like an affront to your existence. See it as a great sign of new growth—like a new bud on a branch. Or a new branch of a soul. It’s a lifeline—grab on to it. Let life grow.

Befriend a local tree. Just rest with it, near it, next to it, in contact with it—rest your palms on its trunk with your forehead leaning into it. You don’t need to speak nor to convey a message—just be with it. And allow for space to flow through you.

We all share this life force; we embody it differently, but we all have the same pulse from the earth. Sync back in tune to detox the thought forms that seek to destroy your dreamer’s serenity.

Bloom as you are, Rose.