Blog #33: Past Life Regression of a Tree

I think I was a tree in a past life

Didn’t have a name

Couldn’t walk or talk

But I was my own home

My roots grew down 

To the core of the Earth

An organic network, signals firing

Communication at my foundation 

My bark, my branches, my leaves

Grew strong and healthy

All supported by the veins 

Running life through me

I think I was a tree in a past life 

Because this fragrance 

This feeling, this energy

All tell me I’ve come home 

One foot in front of the other

A soft thud with each step

One deep inhale, lungs full to the brim

A peace of mind with each exhale

I spy across the river bed

A little bunch of mushrooms

Mother Nature has a sense of humor

Breeding life after death in the form of fungus

I must have been a tree in past life

The oak tree-shaped birthmark

On the small of my back

Tells me I’m one of them

Like a child who is learning

The language of her ancestors

I crave to know the untold stories 

Of this ethereal playground

Who lived in the forest

And absorbed its healing magic?

Who are the keepers of its history?

Who is telling their story now?

The original caretakers of this land,

Indigenous people of the Ohlone tribe

Knew a vast community of oaks and redwoods

Unrecognizable from today

Gold rushing, colonizers colonizing

Unfamiliar with the soul of the forest

Stripped the land of her precious features

Leaving nothing but a thin patch of trees

Oakland, once named for her many oaks

Is now The Town of urban living 

But the spirit of the woods still lingers 

If you visit with the trees and remember

I look out across the bay in awe

How different must this place look 

From hundreds of years ago

When I was a tree in a past life