April 21, 2010

Slow Dancing with the Sacred Trees

By Joan Klostermann-Ketels

Frank Lloyd Wright once wrote an essay called The Man Who Plants a Tree, in which he said tree planters will be found by posterity to be “firmer in fiber and finer in sensibility.” In my interaction with people of diverse professional talents who are interested in the health and well-being of the human spirit, I am struck by how many of them are drawn to trees. People universally seem to love them and regard them as a high form of spiritual energy.

Who among us have not found calmness in the way trees respond to a summer breeze, or been thrilled at the fiery show they put on in the glow of autumn? What children do not find comfort beneath a huge oak tree – or rush to climb branches their mothers would think too high and vast? (Never mind that their mothers climbed the same tree when they were young.)

I have always thought trees make their strongest appeals to the human spirit when the foliage falls away from their bones. November’s low light makes long shadows of their skeletons. Faces of bark and fiber that have been hidden behind leaves all summer laugh out loud and bellow their lust for life.

We fragile humans bundle against the chill. Woodland critters fur up and dig in when the wind shifts. But trees paradoxically shed their glorious wardrobes to show off their lithe athleticism. What shapes they reveal! No wonder they can dance like they do! They use their brute strength to grip the earth while rolling with the punches of the wind and rain.

Some older trees shed their final leaf each year. Some crack and bend toward the earth that they will again become. Their dance is slower but just as poignant and transformational. Their weariness and grief are natural, just as the joy and exhilaration of the younger trees shooting up all around them. For all of their youthful exuberance, some of them won’t live beyond their elders, not having gained enough strength and wisdom in time to survive hungry deer or the next big hail storm.

Every human condition and emotion is reflected in a forest of trees sans the colors of the growing season. Observing people on a city street would be as instructive if only we were as forthcoming about our experiences as trees. Trees show us how to live, how to celebrate, how to bear weight and pain, how to accept, and finally how to die – while maintaining a constant sense of dignity, honor and place.

Trees are the ultimate expression of love and faith. They are consummate storytellers. The only thing they ask in return for the opportunity to confer with them is that we quiet ourselves and slow down enough to see and listen. Given the pace of life in the 21st century, that may require adjustment on our part. But it is a small compromise given the legacy of the tree planter and the sacred information borne by the fruits of that labor.

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April 7, 2010

The Spirituality of Effective Communication

By Joan Klostermann-Ketels

Say one word with your mouth shut! — Zen saying
This wonderful statement implores the student of Zen to convey meaning, intention and condition through simple, focused attention. The idea that a sender of communication could accomplish complete understanding on the part of the receiver by becoming the manifestation of one perfectly formed thought runs counter to our modern society, which relies more on sensory overload.
We all have noticed how a single inspirational quote can instill more meaning than other complex forms of exposition. A beautiful thought may stick in our minds for many years to good effect. Likewise, one powerful photographic image can click a switch in our brain. Such a picture can transform us. Hence, the truism, “A picture is worth 1000 words.”
The closer our proximity to enlightenment, the fewer words are required. Mark Twain, in his essay on American realist author William Dean Howells, wrote, “With a hundred words to do it with, the literary artisan could catch that airy thought and tie it down and reduce it to a concrete condition, visible, substantial, understandable and all right, like a cabbage; but the artist does it with twenty, and the result is a flower.”
When it comes to expressing ourselves, it is essential to say as much we can with as few words as possible. It is so easy to become lost or disoriented in the forest of our thoughts. Should we become enamored with the shape of our argument or the sound of our voice, we can easily wander into unfamiliar territory. Our communication quickly can become so misdirected or diluted as to be ineffective or completely misinterpreted.
Poets, musicians and artists often achieve simple and pure expression. Nature always achieves it. Flora, fauna, and the seasons provide us with a direct, spiritual connection with life forces for which there are no accurate words. The glimpse we are offered into an understanding of the oneness of which we are a part is in the shape of trees, in the movement of eagles and in the light on the horizon. Occasionally, we grasp a sense of spirit and try to use language and material to express it. It is important that we do so, just as it is important that we are mindful of simple and direct effectiveness in all of our daily communication with business associates, friends or family members.
How successful we are is less the result of form and function learned from books and classes than it is from how pure and well-formed our original intention. The greatest clarity can result when the receiver of communication is afforded space in which to relax and infer meaning, in the same way that the listener of great symphonies benefits from the rest between notes.
As stated in the Tao Te Ching, which provides the basis for the philosophical school of Taoism, “We shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness inside that holds whatever we want.”

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