Home-Grown Sacred Symbols and Spirituality
Birch Tree
In our yard when we were growing up stood the most beautiful white birch tree in the world. I do know, really, that it must have been exceptionally large and straight. When we traveled north one time and passed through a famous stretch of white birches – by then I may have been eleven or twelve – I discovered that the trunks aren’t usually as thick and straight as a pine’s.
Each summer the tree’s foliage created a cooling pool of shade. Its bark was delicate and smooth: peeling off a little strip revealed a fresh, light-tan skin beneath. Its large white frame had the pristine look of a classic New England church. Indeed, on Sunday mornings if I looked up when the church bells pealed out from across town, the branches seemed raised to catch the sound.
It was a dizzying tree. Looking up into its wide embrace showed a world of white and light green dazzling in the radiant blue. Its numberless leaves would whisper rustled riots on a morning’s air stream; quiver like a million little yellow-green flags celebrating how they liked looking new in the young light. And yet the way that its heavy boughs would sway and creak in a stiff wind sounded grounded in something ancient, resonant with a dark depth that was somehow familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Large and at large in the all outdoors, it always remained its own world, creating a sheltered, pattering space, moist and fragrant, to stand beneath on drizzly days. It overlooked every backyard game but had planted itself to the side at a discrete distance, giving us an open field of play. And slowly, over many years, not knowing it for decades, I absorbed this tree as a symbol of something in myself; and even now, this long dead tree still photosynthesizes sentences for me.
What is something that you recall as deeply symbolic and meaningful from your own childhood – a stream, a rock, some woods; a room, picture, toy, book, color, view from a window; maybe the way that light fell in some certain place at some certain time of day…?
In our yard when we were growing up stood the most beautiful white birch tree in the world. I do know, really, that it must have been exceptionally large and straight. When we traveled north one time and passed through a famous stretch of white birches – by then I may have been eleven or twelve – I discovered that the trunks aren’t usually as thick and straight as a pine’s.
Each summer the tree’s foliage created a cooling pool of shade. Its bark was delicate and smooth: peeling off a little strip revealed a fresh, light-tan skin beneath. Its large white frame had the pristine look of a classic New England church. Indeed, on Sunday mornings if I looked up when the church bells pealed out from across town, the branches seemed raised to catch the sound.
It was a dizzying tree. Looking up into its wide embrace showed a world of white and light green dazzling in the radiant blue. Its numberless leaves would whisper rustled riots on a morning’s air stream; quiver like a million little yellow-green flags celebrating how they liked looking new in the young light. And yet the way that its heavy boughs would sway and creak in a stiff wind sounded grounded in something ancient, resonant with a dark depth that was somehow familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Large and at large in the all outdoors, it always remained its own world, creating a sheltered, pattering space, moist and fragrant, to stand beneath on drizzly days. It overlooked every backyard game but had planted itself to the side at a discrete distance, giving us an open field of play. And slowly, over many years, not knowing it for decades, I absorbed this tree as a symbol of something in myself; and even now, this long dead tree still photosynthesizes sentences for me.
What is something that you recall as deeply symbolic and meaningful from your own childhood – a stream, a rock, some woods; a room, picture, toy, book, color, view from a window; maybe the way that light fell in some certain place at some certain time of day…?
Posted by Paul at 12:08 AM Permalink
23 Comments:
When I was a child, I used to love to sit on the banks of the Delaware River in Old New Castle, I could get lost in the spirit of the river.
MARK and HAZZBUZZ: Rivers full and empty - I can picture those. Never had regular access to a "river-place," but enough exposure to have an idea.
CRYSTAL: I bet that would be an important role of children's books about animals.
I've thought about this in relation to others I've known who describe their childhoods as pretty much unhappy: that is, what different starting points we can have. I do think that the general direction to take is the same though.
Although I'd describe my own childhood as basically happy, there was one major unhappy aspect. In many ways - most - I'm glad of this, since to me it looks like for most people, childhood is a mix. I think it would have been harder for me to really understand what's involved in dealing with that kind of pain without the experience of it.
Although this is a derivative of established religious symbols, an empty church is a sacred symbol to me. I think it is the stark silence of an empty church which speaks spiritual volumes to me.
Of course, so much in nature (plants and animals) appeals to me spiritually.
Even today when I see those same bugs light up it makes me smile .. for a moment, as a child, I was escaping and happy.
SUSIEQ: Guess it's no coincidence that air is often a metaphor for spirit. I have that feeling too, always loved being out on windy days. And my best experiences at church were in an empty one. Sounds like you would have really liked this one too. At that time, at least, the doors of Rockefeller "chapel" (way bigger than any church in small town NH) were always left open. I'd stop by sometimes on my way back to the dorm. With so much empty space, the air inside was fresh and stirring. Beautiful stained glass. The spaciousness and openness gave it the feel of an outdoors-like indoors place that was unique in my experience.
BAD ALICE: I think having those sorts of places available to us as kids is so important - and it must be less and less common. There were several similar places in my hometown. I haven't been back for many years, but by the time I left at least half were paved over or turned into places where people dump old furniture and other junk.
INSIDE/OUTSIDE: Sounds great. And fireflies - I was totally enchanted, just like you, when I was maybe six or seven and my dad took me into a field before the outdoor movie started to discover them.
AHMAD: Sounds like you and Crystal above have a couple things in common! I wonder if people who miss out on some of this stuff as kids sometimes get to catch up on it, so to speak, as adults.
I'd like to think that can happen. Speaking personally, there were certain areas of life that I didn't get to enjoy much when I was young that I found myself discovering and responding to maybe a little in my late twenties, but mainly in my thirties and forties.
But unfortunately, recent makeovers to the place has ruined it for me.
DON I, thanks for stopping by and glad you liked it.
What happened was that the original forest got chopped down and it allowed pines from Canada to take root.
I was intrigued by the beautiful
pastel shades of pebbles in the
creek which ran near my Grandmas
house. On first glance, they were
rainbow gauds at the bottom of a
transparent stream; Reach for one,
but realize that the light is playing games with your senses.
The pebble was only one of thousands whose true color (taupe,
or reddish-brown, common to shale)
and actual location (thanks to our
old buddy, Fresnel) were only seen when the pebble was retrieved and left on the bank to dry). How much
of the puzzle was left unresolved,
simply by enjoying things as they
were observed?
Nice post!
Otherwise.. elephants have been my sacred symbol. I actually wrote about that on my blog a month or two back. So it was really nice coming here and seeing you'd done a similar thing with your lovely tree story.
I love it when that happens. Great blog, I'll be back!
That says it all.
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