First chance you get, go find a pine tree.
If possible, find a big one. Lie on the ground under it, preferably on a couple of inches of soft pine needles. Look up through the branches.
Breathe. Do nothing much. Notice how the fragrance of the pine comes down to meet you.
When earthing is what you need there is no better place to feel Mother Earth than under a pine tree. Some trees lift you, raise you up — but pine trees create a down-draft effect. They are grounding.
As you lie on your back, look up through the flowing canopy above you. If the pine tree has branches extending fairly low to the ground, notice the breezy space between the bottom branches and the horizon. Watch how the space dances.
Turn on your side, and you’ll likely see the handiwork of spiders, their glassy strands flung between grasses, the glimmers tossing in the gentle breeze and appearing and disappearing with the sun’s assistance.
Give your eyes a rest while you listen to the hoot owl in the distance. Upon opening them again, notice the view. The sun has moved ever so slightly, highlighting a new stand of trees, or patch of land with cattle grazing, or insects in flight.
Spend time under this pine tree. As much as you can before the sun goes down.
If your dog is with you, it’s good for him, too, wandering and smelling and lingering over details. Finally, he’ll sit down with you, nose on paws, and rest as well.
Recently, as my dog Jackson and I walked this beautiful property belonging to my dear friends, I became especially aware of the many types of pines on their land. Some stood in solidarity with others, nine in a line. Some huddled in small groups. Some singular types, tall and skinny, put their full attention on heading for the sky.
Some pines had loop-d-loop branches, the kind that made me think of Christmas trees decorated with old-fashioned strings of popcorn and cranberries. Others draped their greens from the lower side of branches like loose skin.
Several pines were strong, steady and stocky, sporting picture-book-perfect shapes. Others were barely there, a lightweight version of living for sure — practically no greenery, and miles between wispy branches.
Certain pines seemed entirely disorganized. Wads, splats, bunches of pine-something-or-other covered their limbs and trunks entirely, offering a lumpy hello.
There were Halloween pines, too, with scraggly, wind-worn branches and pointy hats. Some cowered. Some hovered over.
The rough looking crowd was balanced by a row of pines wearing (I swear) green roses blooming (yes) in winter.
And, as I walked, the flashy florescent green group made me smile. This bright bunch paid no mind nor matter to the tradition of drab winter wrappings. Their cloaks were totally tropical — lifting, warming and cheering the spirit of any onlooker.
I’ve walked this property many times, but had not really seen it. On that day, I accepted nature’s standing invitation to appreciate more deeply.
Several days later, I attended a large event in Charleston, SC and viewed the thousands of humans before me with the kind of appreciation nature encourages. What a stunning variety of humans we have on this planet!
Driving home from the event, I felt more conscious, more awake. As I walked into my home, I smiled about the disorganized “splat” corner, the bathroom with a tropical feel, and yes, the part of my home that feels like roses blooming in winter.
Tell me, won’t you please, what you see with your new eyes….Continue Reading