I was walking among a bunch of wolf trees in the Green Mountains in southern Vermont. This was last Friday. The sun had begun to set, and with it a week’s worth of efforts. The first mile of the trail was steep. I move at a quick pace when I’m walking solo. So, with the exertion and rapid elevation gain, I could count my pulse from the throb in my ears.
At the top of that first mile, where the trail flattens out, I found myself in the arms of a birch tree. Tears caught in the stubble on my face. Worn out from the climb and relieved by the quiet, everything was a metaphor. And I heard a whisper—not audible but verbatim—that landed on me with a pang of grief and of pride: My ancestors were keepers of the forest.
I don’t know if that’s precisely true. I don’t know a lot about my ancestors. But the sentence formed in my heart and felt like an echo of truth coming at me from those who precede me. “Aram, your ancestors were keepers of the forest.” I scribbled in my notebook…
I don’t know if that constellation of particular trees actually commingled in the forests of my ancestors. (Any foresters, or arboreal historians of northern Europe, out there willing to save me a trip down Google lane? Help me polish my slapdash poem?)
I don’t know if my ancestors were actually charged with the forest’s care. (Any relatives out there with that knowledge? Help me polish my slapdash sense of self?)
On another level, of course, I do know. Insofar as I am an embodied and emotional product of my ancestors’ values, vocations, and dreams—my experience of relief in the arms of a birch is all the proof I need of what they were up to in the world.
I like to imagine that some of you reading this don’t already know me. So: Hi, I’m Aram. My ancestors were keepers of the forest. In a way, I suppose, so am I. Welcome to the woods. I’m glad you’re here.
There are others, probably most, of you who are already part of the ecology of my life. We’ve spent time walking forest (and canyon and mountain and urban) trails together. We’ve criss-crossed in digital, social, and professional spaces. Hey friends. I’m happy you’re here too.
And it’s good, for me too, to be here. Here and now.
Last week, the day after the hug from the birch, I finished reading Frederick Buechner’s memoir of vocation: Now and Then. He takes the title from Paul Tillich:
We want only to show you something we have seen and to tell you something we have heard… that here and there in the world and now and then in ourselves is a New Creation.
I sure hope that’s true. I have a good amount of faith that it is. It’s what I’m here to explore, and to open up about.
More soon.
PS — Here’s a good read if you want to learn more about wolf trees.
PPS — This post pairs well with I Wake in Joy by Deb Talan.
