When I first moved to England I literally felt uprooted, as I had been violently torn from my Australian country and its eucaplyt oiled air and trees that sprung majestically from ancient soils in this continent so far removed from Europe.

Whilst being pulled toward ancestral lands in Britain and having wrapped my limbs around my true love, an Englishman of the woods and valleys, I needed a way to connect. Immediately I was drawn to the sacredness of the trees there, having heard of dryads or tree spirits that dwelt there.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all - Hermann Hesse

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Besides being homesick and lost, I was so desperately sad for a reason I couldn't quite put my finger on. I would walk for hours, as if the woods were my church, only assuaged by sweep of wind and nod of branches, sting of nettle and tear of bramble. With J, I would feel more comforted, as he was teaching me the lore of the land and I would be more drawn out of my gloomier thoughts.

And thus I knew that it was the trees that would be my hearts balm.

I recognised them as powerful symbols, of course:

'...A tree is one of the best examples of a motif that often appears in dreams (and elsewhere) and that can have an incredible variety of meanings. It might symbolise evolution, physical growth, or psychological maturation; death (Christ’s crucifixion on the tree); it might be a phallic symbol; it might be a great deal more. And such other common dream motifs as the cross or the lingam can also have a vast array of symbolic meanings...' – Man and his Symbols by Carl Jung

But what did they mean to me? As I said, I knew they had spirits, a dryad that was the higher 'self' of the tree, a kind of sensed energy field that, if we are reverent and respectful, can impart many wisdoms to us. It is said that...

...after the connection to the dryad spirit, this person ascends to spiritual enlightenment by facing a tree which they are naturally drawn to. The dryad will help guide them insisting that they close their eyes taking a deep breath to release their tensions. After their mind is at ease, their soul is set free connecting to a zen-like experience

... and then I found a book on the Tree Ogham.

The Ogham alphabet was likely 5th or 6th century pre Celtic in origin. It consists of twenty-five simple strokes centred on or branching off a central line, and were written on wood or stones. Like runes, it was a language of symbols, often found on old stones and wood.

Even reading the Ogham was likened to climbing a tree:

This is their number: there are five groups of Ogham and each group has five letters, and each of them has from one to five scores, and their orientations distinguish them. Their orientations are: right of the stemline, left of the stemline, around the stemline, through the stemline, across the stemline. Ogham is climbed (i.e. read) as a tree is climbed, i.e. treading on the root of the tree first with one’s right hand before and one’s left hand last. After that it is across it and against it and through it and around it.”

The tree Ogham gave the names of trees to the individual letters. About 8 of the original letter names were give to the trees. Some say the tree Ogham was used as a calendar by the druids although no one is entirely sure if this was the case.

It was Glennie Kindreds self published books about the tree ogham and the tree spirits that guided me out of my depression. As I read about the lore, medicine and magick of trees I felt the landscape drawing me into it's embrace. I'd walk for miles, up Glastonbury Tor and past Og Magog, the two old oak trees with their gnarled bodies like arthritic elders, up tussocks where I begged for council from Old Man blackthorn , respectfully, and past chalk bottomed rivers where trout splashed and ash trees bowed their heads to the water. I passed dark and gloomy groves with shiny leafed holly, over stiles where yew towered, giggled with my boy under mischievous apple trees in the sunshine, gathered gorse blossoms for tea.

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With reverence and care I'd ask the trees for their wisdom, reading Kindred's book and considering what lessons each tree had for me. Each tree meditation would take at least a week until I'd fully embraced the tender messages within. Sometimes the trees would shrug me off and I'd continue up hill and down dale until one called to me and I'd sit at the base and ask for a small piece to carve an ogham stick. I'd then spend days whittling and sanding and writing the ogham on the stick, thinking about what the tree represented and what I could learn from it. I would write the sacred and ancient letter onto the twig and clasp it like a rosary bead, reverent and connecting to the divinity of nature.

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And so these ancient lessons from the trees seeped into my soul, and somehow lifted me out of the fog that had surrounded me.

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Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life - Hesse

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And my heart lightened, and I felt free of the longing for my home thousands of miles away. Through tree wisdom I leant that I could find the home within me so the home outside me was also a place of my heart.

So entwined did I become with English trees that the reverse happened when I came back down under, how I cried for ash and willow, blackthorn and oak. But that's another story.

What spiritual relationships have you had with trees? I would love to hear your stories.

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