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.

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