A Tale of Two Blogs

Late afternoon and my spirit, with a demand not a whisper, called me to go walk. Not my usual time, dark approaching. I hesitated and then went down to the park lake. I said good evening to the tree that always greets me and always pulls my weary weakened body up the steep hill that is my reward.  I always fix my eyes upon her beauty and strength and she reaches out and carries me up the hill. With gratitude I always stop, say 'thank you' and then bow and with hands to my heart whisper 'namaste.'  

On my way up the hill my eyes fixed as they do but my heart heard a sound that created fear. Cresting the hill I saw a tree cutter beginning to cut her down. I confess my will to weak to stop the tears. I stood fixed and in disbelief. My friend. The young man walked over and with a gentle voice said "It's dead." Correcting his "it" I replied, "She always carries me up the hill. She is so beautiful." And with that I bowed and whispered 'namaste' and began to walk away. The young man called out and brought me a branch. Blog one would have ended here with a heavy heart and sweet tears. 

Blog two found its birth after darkness. Stumbling with eyes that cannot see in the dark, I scurried out and down the street with the moon guiding my feet. I could see the shadows of her lower branches stacked only the main trunk remained. I knelt and left an offering of corn meal upon the ground and her cut branches. It is a Native American gift back to the earth. With a final namaste and bow, touching the earth,  I whispered "good night" not good-bye. 

"Be still my heart, these great trees are prayers." ~ Tagore