Writing my way through the A-to-Z blogging challenge, I’ve tasked myself with throwing open the cabinet of curiosities and wondrous things I call my brain and leading you on a tour of what actually resides in there – all through the lens of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words.
R is for…
Racine -1. (of a tree) root. 2. root, origin.
For the past few days I’ve been hunting through various of my many many journals, looking for a particular photo. It’s a paper/film photograph, so there’s no digital files to look through – I’m simply having to page through pages of journals. Which is actually always a bit of a delight for me. I always rediscover things I’ve forgotten, getting to enjoy them anew. The particular photo I’m looking for, and haven’t yet found, is of me holding part of a large root ball from a dear tree that once graced a neighbor’s yard. That photo captured an expression on my face that interests me – it’s a mix of grief and reverence and for some reason I’ve been thinking about that liminal state.
Despite not having yet found the photo – which I would have likely shared today, because the topic is roots! – I did ironically come across another root-related thing. Something I wrote a while ago based on the template of George Ella Lyon’s Where I’m From poem.
That’s a peek at my origin roots, but I think of being rooted in other ways as well.
It’s one of my beliefs that one of the gifts we bring through our incarnation is the capacity to ground higher spiritual principles and energies, and through embodying them, anchor them on Earth and make them more widely available. So I often think of myself as a bit like a tree – my branches reaching skyward pulling energy down through my trunk (my life) down through all my chakras, and grounding them through my roots.
There’s so much around me that helps me feel rooted – kindred spirits and those that hold me with love in their hearts; numerous practices running the gamut from meditation to flower essences, from writing and all my creative practices to simply being in my home which is my sanctuary. It’s all a wonderful blend of the spiritual and the physical – it nurtures and sustains me like nutrient-absorbing roots, and keeps me stable like the deep anchoring roots of ancient trees.
I was first introduced to William James’s work in my adolescence, and I’ve returned to it again recently. I particularly like this declaration of his:
“I am done with great things and big plans, great institutions and big success. I am for those tiny, invisible loving human forces that work from individual to individual, creeping through the crannies of the world like so many rootlets, or like the capillaries.”
Tiny, invisible, loving human forces – don’t you want to take up that mantle?
I live in a older neighborhood where properties are small, the houses are quite close together, and the city has trees planted curbside along the street. It delights me to think the trees are holding hands in the canopy above us and guarding our little block. But I also like thinking about their roots touching and their communicating that way as well, sharing secrets and information. There is clear scientific evidence that trees do communicate through their roots and fungi mycelium. And if you don’t find that awesome and entirely wonderful, I’m not altogether sure we’re sharing the same reality paradigm.
There’s so much I love about roots – the way they anchor and reach out, but also the appeal of living underground. Mysterious. Hidden. Akin to buried treasure.
What if we’re all like trees with our roots touching and communicating and sharing? I’ve share some of my thoughts, now it’s your turn. What makes you feel rooted? Have a special tree you love? Feel free to whisper a clue of where your roots are from. Do tell you know I love to hear.