Early this Autumn, I had the great fortune to encounter a wonderful plant--an ancient tree of great renown wherever it is found. The name for this tree was none other then Hawthorn, although sometimes referred to as may flower because of the time of its flowering. The berries, flowers and leaves of this plant have been used throughout ancient times, across many cultures, as a remedy and tonic for the heart. The branches have been used to bless weddings, battle evil spirits, and--as fable goes--to crown the Christian Lord and Savior.
I began walking towards a large and ripening Hawthorn tree this morning at dawn. The cold morning air pressed close around me, and the fog impressed upon me a feeling of intimacy. As I made my way towards an old Hawthorn tree in my neighborhood, I began to drop into the feeling tone of this plant. When I arrived, the sun had just emerged over the horizon, hidden only by the low lying clouds of the Pacific Northwest and a thick fog. The birds quieted their song as I approached. I took a moment of silence to set my intentions and make my prayers to the spirit, essence, and body of Hawthorn.
My hands began to grow cold, but the attention I gave to the harvesting brought me away from this discomfort. As I moved from branch to branch, intuitively plucking the largest and brightest berries, I dropped into a timeless zone. I gradually became aware of the birds joining me in celebration of Hawthorn this morning. I was suprised by how comfortable they were with me, often flitting in branches only feet from me. They seemed to regard me as part of the fabric of this morning. They did not give any alarm call, even though I was far from still. I felt as though I had established a bond between myself and the Hawthorn tree, and the birds respected this bond.
Throughout the morning, there were two instances when other people walked by. At their approach all chatter from the birds stopped. A single alarm call silenced the birds, and the magic of their presence retreated as they hid in the branches of neighboring trees. As one of the humans walked by, he attempted to ignore my presence altogether, the other greeted me with a curt nod and began a brief conversation about what I was doing with these strange berries. In both instances I was met with an unpleasant and all to familiar feeling, that of a human-centric worldview. This is a place where humans are the dominant species, and the magic bird-song is just as ignorable as the incessant sound of traffic.This gave great contrast to my morning, and I understood something crucial because of it. I realized that so often we are blind to the diverse relationships between the plants and animals of the forest. Their is an intrinsic connection amongst all forms of life, and this is something that the creatures of the forest well understand. The alchemists of medieval times referred to this as "the language of the Birds", and I can see why. There is a whole world that is rich in intrinsic meaning, and the birds are well versed in its language. This world lies right outside our human centric universe, and it is a world of magic, of real connection, and of deep meanings. It is the mythic background of our universe, and this morning, Hawthorn showed me a glimpse into this world.
The journey was complete only after an hour and a half of harvesting and a few minutes of tincturing. The whole process felt like minutes. This morning I give thanks to Hawthorn, I give thanks to the birds, to this life, and truly, I give thanks to this wild and precious Earth.
(Journal entry from mid-October)
