Farewell, to a Grand Old Dame.....

Today a grand old dame was cut down in the mountains.
A eucalypt [or angophora or some other native] at least 300 years old [according to a survey a few years ago] was chopped down to make way for the highway.

Where once was a meandering road taking people to the healing energy of the upper mountains, now, under construction, there is a 4 lane monster concrete serpent whisking the tourists up as if they are in a race.

Where once they would leave their busy-ness behind as they drove up through the quaint villages, taking deep breaths as they meandered up the hill,  they now get here so fast there is no time to even begin to calm down before they are here. in a blink of an eye.

This beautiful old tree had been a sentinel for as long as I can remember, she gave me a sense of security, somehow. Her presences said 'all is ok with the world'. Her trunk would take two people to hug, her branches stretching out to the heavens, her white flowers perfuming in spring, supplying bees with food and birds with shelter..... and now she has been reduced to a pile of sawdust and bark chips. The perpetrators didn't even leave evidence of trunk or branches, whisked them away quickly so that most of the general public didn't see them.. out of sight, out of mind. there is a gap in the landscape now.

And for what. No one seems to have noticed. Maybe it happens so often now that we are all becoming blasé, immune to destruction of our trees. Murder. I can feel her pain, my heart weeps

Years ago, I remember some old plane trees being chopped down in Faulconbridge and locals had a candle light vigil for them. I remember driving past and seeing a crowd of people sitting with the remains of the trees, the ground dotted with paper lanterns with tealights burning. that was a sacred moment.

I drove down to where this tree once stood hoping that there may have been someone there, to sit with, to grieve with but no. Just darkness and a pile of wood chips. I couldn't even light my candle tonight as the traffic whizzed past oblivious to the destruction that had gone on. I wondered if the tree shrieked in pain. No anaesthetic to numb the pain. I wondered about the divas and elementals who were attached to this tree. Where do they go now. Are they homeless? Do we have a responsibility to them or are they just stuff of the alternate people, the  hippies, the tree-huggers?

Tomorrow I am going down again and will take a candle, some incense and some spikenard to anoint the ground in thanks. I will bury a clay healing disc where she once lived.

Bless you dear Bullaburra grandmother tree,  thankyou for all you have done and may your wisdom live on in us.
May your wisdom show us the stupidity of our ways.
Namaste.