Many years ago I was silently beckoned by a beautiful wide-armed American Elm in the park close to my home. I responded, drawing close and leaning my back against the trunk. A relationship began that has taught me a great deal—about trees, about myself, about life. I wrote a blog post, Beckoned By Trees, about that story. The connection has continued, now with both that tree and “her” partner nearby.

My almost-daily walks in Chester park have helped me feel a connection to the land on which I live. I love the open spaces in the park, the many flowering ornamental trees, and the river birches. Increasingly, however, I am drawn to the tall oak trees. If I walk far enough—down to the creek, over the stone bridge, and up the hill on the other side—I come to an area that contains little remnants of the original oak forest that once covered this part of Pennsylvania.

As I wind up the road on the other side of the creek, I come to clusters of enormously tall oaks that have been standing together for well over a century. In my gut I feel drawn to be with these trees, sensing both their rootedness and their great height. I am not called to be in a “relationship” with them, such as I have formed with the beautiful elm close to my home, but simply to be present in their presence.

Being with these clusters of tall old oaks has a grounding effect on me, which I feel not only in my feet but also in my belly, a greater solidity. In their presence I stand up straighter and feel my own height. In spite of the adjacent dirt parking areas littered with debris, I find a place to sit, usually on a log, or on the ground. I breathe silently and just commune with the trees and the rest of the natural world. These trees do not feel like individuals, but more like a collective, and in their company I, too, feel less like an individual. Among them, I am absorbed by a larger presence.

Sitting one morning recently, my back close to the trunk of the largest oak in the cluster, looking at the dirt, sticks, and small green plants around me, I felt my belonging.

“I am part of the earth,” I thought.

Then I was reminded about all that I had learned about belonging to the earth from Joanna Macy. I felt moved to go home and write a blog post about her amazing life and teachings. I did so, feeling that the trees had sent me to do it.

More recently, I was drawn farther up the road, to the largest remnant of forest left in the park, then into the woods and downhill to sit next to the tallest oak on the bank of a small creek. I could hear cars traveling not far away, but nonetheless there was a sense of hush and privacy in those woods. I rested beside the roots of the tree for a long time, my mind quiet, absorbed by the feeling of presence. It was something like being in a meeting for worship—not only with the trees, but also the earth, the plants, the rocks, and the flowing creek. My separateness dissipated and I came into unity.

This has happened before when I’ve spent time quietly in the woods, but now there is a stronger feeling of attraction to be with the clusters of old trees and woods, a greater pull, a sense of some separateness being peeled off of me. In this chaotic and frightening time—politically, socially, economically—in a world in which climate change is accelerating and feels out of control, my nervous system is distressed and the need for stability is greater than ever. I’m so glad for my husband, friends, family, neighbors, spiritual community, and the collective of sensitive, caring people around the world, all of which helps me feel stable and supported. But other people do not fully provide the kind of greater belonging which is needed now, which the earth itself provides, if we are open to it. Which the starry cosmos provides, if we are aware of it. Which the divine light that flows through all things gives. All of it part of the great wholeness that is God.

Right now, the trees, woods, and earth itself together are a critical doorway for me to the greater realms of wholeness. They have sent me home to write this blog post for you to read, inviting you, too, to make time to rest in their wise and grounded presence.

© 2025 Marcelle Martin

To locate an old growth forest near you, go to the Old-Growth Forest Network, “the only national network in the U.S. of protected, old-growth, native forests where people of all generations can experience biodiversity and the beauty of nature.” Their goal is “to locate and designate at least one protected forest in every county in the United States that can sustain a native forest. We estimate that to be approximately 2,370 out of 3,140 total counties. To achieve this aim we work to identify forests for the Network, ensure their protection, and inform people of the forest locations. We are building not only a network of forests, but also an alliance of people who care about forests.” https://www.oldgrowthforest.net/.