Today I hugged a tree. Not just any old tree, but a Giant
Redwood. I needed that hug. This weekend, in particular this Sunday, marks the
second anniversary of my sister’s death. I wanted to do something special to
honor her. Something to show that even if some days it felt like I wanted to
give up on life that I would keep going on and find new ways to experience the
joy of being alive and express my gratitude for this gift.
Look at that dirty tree-hugging hippie!
We live in Redwood City and there are some lovely redwoods
nearby, but those simply would not do on this occasion. Ever since I was little
I have wanted to see the Redwood you can drive through. (It turns out there are three of them in California.) I had seen a picture of it in a magazine and just thought it
was amazing. So we loaded up in the car and drove a scenic 5 hours north to
Humboldt Redwoods State Park to the Avenue of the Giants.
Wow.
“With an average lifespan of 500-700 years, coast redwoods
can live to more than 2,000 years and grow to over 360 feet in height.”
(www.redwoods.info)
Checked this one off my list.
I couldn’t help but think back to a yoga class a year or so
ago and the teacher asked what we would want our energy to go to or be "recycled" as when we die. Various images flickered through my mind, a majestic eagle,
fierce tiger, the untamed wind and finally the sturdy redwood. As soon as I
thought of the redwood, I knew it was my answer.
Since then I’ve often thought, what is wrong with me? How
boring to long to be a tree. I dearly want to yearn to be the wind, flying
free, seeing the world, but I need a home to settle in or my soul is anxious.
Why not an eagle then? Soaring high in the sky and yet coming home to a nest.
Eagles are a proud symbol of freedom for sure, but they are predatory and I do
not want to live a life of preying on others for my sustenance. Tigers are
gorgeous creatures, but I do not desire to be prized for my pelt, conquered for
sport, or caged to be looked upon and admired.
The redwood stands tall. It provides a home to others. The
wind whispers the secrets of the world into the treetop. Centuries pass and it
endures. When it inevitably does come tumbling down the root system continues to provide
nourishment for numerous offspring. Fallen and broken it is still a thing of beauty.
I would tell my sister this and she would say, “That’s interesting.” She might roll her eyes and she would definitely crack a joke about me wanting to be a giant redwood because I have a complex about being the shortest in the family (Hey, I’m still taller than Grandma Bonnie was…I think...). Then she’d say, “Hey, have you heard this song?” and I'd soon have another new band to love.
Standing inside a redwood.
I would tell my sister this and she would say, “That’s interesting.” She might roll her eyes and she would definitely crack a joke about me wanting to be a giant redwood because I have a complex about being the shortest in the family (Hey, I’m still taller than Grandma Bonnie was…I think...). Then she’d say, “Hey, have you heard this song?” and I'd soon have another new band to love.
My "little" sister, Amy Jo.
In memory of my amazing sister, I would encourage everyone to listen to her favorite song, "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World, donate to braintumor.org or The American Cancer Society, and eat some sushi washed down with a Coke.
Not into sushi? Play a flute, turn a blank canvas into a work of art, adopt an animal or at the very least...go hug a tree.
Amy Jo Turner 09-03-1984 to 11-16-2012
Holding my sister's artistic hand.
Your Sister was such an amazing person, as are you! I really don't know how I would cope without your friendship.
ReplyDeleteI have never seen a road go through a tree before, this is truly AWEsome!!