From the rolling hills of the Lot-et-Garonne, where ancient trees murmur secrets to those who listen
There’s something rather magical about sitting beneath the sprawling canopy of an old tree in the French countryside. Here, where the land breathes ancient wisdom, I’ve discovered that trees have far more to teach us than we might imagine. As the morning mist rises through the branches and the first rays of sunlight filter through those leaves which are yet to be blown away by autumn, still heavy with dew, nature’s quiet intelligence reveals itself to those who pause long enough to notice. Out of the many trees in my garden, a stately walnut tree in my garden calls to me; I imagine what stories it may tell, should I learn its ancient language.
Scientists have revealed what mystics have long known: trees communicate in intricate ways, forming what some call the “Wood Wide Web.” Through underground fungal networks, they share nutrients, send warnings, and nurture their young. This interconnected way of being offers profound lessons for our own lives and wellbeing.
The Sacred Art of Slow Communication
What strikes me most about these arboreal networks is their unhurried nature. Messages travel not at the speed of light or with the ping of a notification, but through a gradual, intentional exchange of chemical signals and electrical impulses. In our modern world of instant messages and constant connectivity, perhaps we could learn from this slower, more mindful approach to communication.
When a tree is attacked by insects, it releases chemical signals warning its neighbours of the threat. When an elder tree is dying, it bequeaths its nutrients to the younger saplings. This sophisticated communication network has existed for millions of years, long before our own digital networks were even imagined.
Through the lens of energy work, we might imagine ourselves as trees—roots deeply anchored, crown reaching skyward, energy flowing not in rushed bursts but in steady, nurturing streams. There’s profound healing in this slower rhythm of being.
The Wisdom of Forest Communities
In the heart of old-growth forests, trees don’t merely exist as individuals—they form complex communities that nurture and support each other. This collective approach to survival offers powerful lessons for our own wellbeing:
- Deep Rootedness: Just as trees maintain vast underground networks, our own wellbeing depends on maintaining deep connections with our community and inner selves. These connections provide stability during life’s storms and nourishment during periods of growth.
- Seasonal Wisdom: Trees don’t resist the changing seasons; they adapt and transform. The maple’s leaves turn brilliant red before falling, the oak draws its energy inward for winter, the pine maintains its green through all seasons. Similarly, we must learn to flow with life’s natural cycles rather than fighting against them.
- Collaborative Care: In the forest, stronger trees share resources with weaker ones through their root networks. Mother trees nurture their offspring, sharing nutrients and wisdom accumulated over centuries. This reminder of our interconnectedness speaks to the importance of community care in our own healing journeys.
- Resilience Through Connection: Trees that grow in isolation are more vulnerable to storms and disease. Those that grow in community develop stronger root systems and greater resilience. What might this teach us about the importance of building strong support networks in our own lives?
The Ancient Practice of Forest Immersion
The Japanese practice of shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing, isn’t merely about walking among trees—it’s about immersing oneself in the forest atmosphere with all senses awake. Research has shown that time spent among trees reduces stress hormones, lowers blood pressure, and boosts immune function. The phytoncides (aromatic compounds) released by trees have measurable effects on our wellbeing.
Practical Ways to Embrace Tree Wisdom
For those seeking to incorporate these lessons into daily life, consider these gentle suggestions:
Morning Practices
- Begin your day with a tree meditation: Stand barefoot on the earth, imagining roots growing from your feet into the soil. Sense into the soles of your feet; breathe gently. Can you feel the energy moving below?
- Practice mindful breathing beneath a favourite tree, synchronising your breath with the movement of leaves
- Write your morning thoughts seated against a tree trunk, allowing its steady presence to ground your reflections
Deepening Connection
- Develop a relationship with a specific tree, visiting it through different seasons and weather
- Practice “forest bathing” or shinrin-yoku, spending mindful time among trees without phones or distractions
- Learn to identify local tree species and their traditional uses
- Create your own support network, sharing energy and resources just as trees do
Mindful Communication
- Embrace slower forms of communication—perhaps writing letters or having unhurried conversations over tea
- Practice deep listening, giving others the same patient attention we give to nature
- Create regular periods of digital silence, allowing your nervous system to attune to nature’s rhythms
The Healing Frequency of Nature
The energy frequency of trees aligns beautifully with our own natural healing rhythms. When we slow down to match their pace, something profound happens—our nervous systems settle, our breath deepens, and we begin to remember our place in the great web of life.
In France, where the pace of life already runs a bit slower than in many places, there’s an appreciation for what the French call “le temps de vivre”—the time to live. The trees exemplify this philosophy perfectly, never rushing their growth, never hurrying through the seasons.
The Medicine of Presence
In our quest for wellness, trees offer this profound medicine: the gift of simple presence. They remind us that healing isn’t always about doing—sometimes it’s about being. About standing our ground, turning toward the light, and staying present through all seasons.
When we attune ourselves to tree-time, we begin to notice:
- The subtle shift of shadows as the sun moves across the sky
- The dance of leaves in the breeze
- The gradual unfurling of new growth
- The steady rhythm of sap rising and falling
A Final Thought
As the sun sets behind the nodding plum orchards which surround my house, high on the hill, I’m reminded that wellness isn’t about quick fixes or instant transformations. Like the trees, we’re meant to grow gradually, supported by deep connections and nourished by the slow, steady exchange of energy with those around us.
Perhaps that’s the most profound lesson our leafy teachers offer: in a world that seems to spin faster each day, the path to true wellness lies in slowing down, putting down roots, and remembering that we’re all part of something larger than ourselves.
In the end, the trees remind us that true wisdom often comes not from reaching higher or moving faster, but from growing deeper—into ourselves, into our communities, and into our connection with the natural world that sustains us all.