I found a place in the forest where a tree had been uprooted. It had not been chopped down with a stump left as evidence. The entire tree had been uprooted. It was devastating yet cyclical. It was metaphorical and scary. Who uproots a tree? And why? Where is the tree?
At the same time I envied the tree. I wanted to be uprooted. It is one thing to be grounded. It is entirely another…to be uprooted. It must be refreshing or perhaps life giving or saving. Or freeing.
I wonder about that tree and that large hole in the ground. I wonder about all the trees around it. What kind of tree was it? What kind of leaves did it have? Did it know? Did the earth grieve?
Written May 19, 2012 during a 10 day silence retreat in at The Dervish Center in upstate New York. Photography taken somewhere in Pennsylvania during the Reliquarian Retreat.