MOTHER OAK by Dale Allen

We sat on the in the leaves, my daughter and I, in the warm autumn sun under the Great Mother Oak.  Here and there fallen leaves danced lightly in the breeze.  It felt good to be directly connected to the ground, bent knees and bare feet on the land.  We leaned back and looked up at the tree in all her glory.  She was still filled with yellow green leaves… her canopy so high that from up there, she can “see” the other neighborhood trees with many years like she has.

She has been here in this place since the end of the 1700s or the beginning of the 1800s. She was here with the first European settlers of this place. Her mother had been here before that, with the last generations of the people who were of this land for 15,000 years or more: the Paugussett People. We could feel this history. We could feel the tree’s mother. And then, from beneath the ground where their energy remains steady, we heard the voice of the Paugussett. They thanked us for acknowledging their presence. They said that they can feel our profound love for this place where we live, here in Black Rock, Connecticut… our love for the trees, the leaves, the flowers, the osprey, the red tail hawks, the fox, the squirrels, the rabbits, the insects, the shore, the waters of coastal Connecticut (Long Island Sound), the shells, the sand, the sparkles, the historical homes, the families, the new babies. We love this land. We love our home. And the Paugussett saw this love. The Mother Oak saw this love.

The Paugussett said to us, “We are the people native to this place, and yes, we knew this tree’s mother. While you are not native, you are daughters of this land. Your ancestors were in Europe when we were here, but their descendants were pulled here, with millions of others. You are not aware of the wound you carry from the displacement of your people from their European lands. But you do carry that wound.  It is important and life-giving to know yourselves as daughters of this land, and remember too the traditions of your people and your various European roots.”  The Paugussett blessed us.  Warm tears ran down our cheeks to feel their compassion for us.  It was so beautiful, so generous. We cried at their acknowledgement of our need for love of land and home, even though the land is the very land taken from them. More tears. We realized the pain we carry for being of the peoples who claimed North America, for being part of the infliction of so much pain and l o s s.

Compassion reigned.  Our gratitude spilled over and ran deep into the ground of our shared home. 

Meanwhile, the Great Mother Oak enveloped us. We could feel her roots spread out beneath us into the ground. We could feel her outspread branches.  From her treetop crown, our spirits could see the other old trees of this land.  She gave us natural grounding. She drew our energy far down into her roots.

We stayed like this for a long time. Rooted. Steady. Allowing life, breezes, time to move through us, while we stayed grounded, eternal.

Then there was a sense of completion, and my daughter said it was time to hug the tree. We walked a few steps to her trunk and put our arms around her, and our cheeks against her craggy bark.  Then we were complete here.

We walked in sweet, sumptuous, contented silence until about halfway home, when one or the other of us said that our very legs felt as big and heavy as the Mother Oak’s trunk. We felt that with every step we took, we pulled up on the roots just enough to progress forward in our strides. We remembered a few years back, and an autumn walk we had taken in the woods.  We had been walking and talking until we both stopped in our tracks, turned our heads to the left where an old Mother Maple stood, and then silently walked over and put our arms around her. She had simply called us. We remembered that we had both felt that we were vertically zooming upward in energy, spreading outward like her branches and her expanded vortex! Now as we walked home, we remarked on how we were experiencing something so different. The Mother trees know what we need. We only need listen.

PS:  The experience with the Paugussett touched us so deeply, and in sharing it, I carry a worry that persons with heritage indigenous to this land may be displeased at our sense of communion with their ancestors. I pray not, and apologize deeply if so.

PPS: With love and thanks to Mare Cromwell, for organizing the
1000 Goddesses Gathering & Global Tree Grid

BIO: Dale Allen offers her In Our Right Minds film, curriculum, book and keynote on her website.  Her YouTube Channel features nourishing content including interviews from the Parliament of the World’s Religions. “The Dale Allen Podcast” is on all podcast platforms.  Find out more at: https://www.inourrightminds.net

Contact: daleallencore@yahoo.com

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4 thoughts on “MOTHER OAK by Dale Allen”

  1. I have Native roots and I also have intimate relationships to trees and all of nature – every tree – mushroom bird is calling out to us – and we need to learn how to listen deeply….How could anyone be offended?

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  2. Thank you so much for sharing.

    Here’s something I wrote years ago after having to move away from a home which contained a yard with a huge Bradford Pear tree I became connected with.

    She told me her name was Grandmother Tree.

    Grandfather Tree Speaks

    As I walk beside the lake, my time I do take.

    I meditate, and share, my happy thoughts by use of the crisp, cold, magical winter air.

    Then my rest, I take beneath this loving old tree, who, without complaint shelters me.

    My hands I lay upon the bark, my thoughts light, for here there is no dark.

    I ask this old Grandfather Tree; “Do you know of my old dear long-gone friend, Grandmother tree?”

    His leaves in the wind they do shake, a whispering sound they do make, as he answers me.

    I can hear him say, “Yes your Grandmother Tree from long ago I do know and if you listen close to all the leaves, a message from her you are sure to perceive.”

    And so, I rested silent in the glow of the sunlight, and soon found Grandfather Tree was quite right.

    For as the leaves whispered, I did hear from far away, Grandmother Tree say…

    “Hello, my friend, I am still here, so never fear.

    I have not forgotten you, nor the kindness and love you did give to me.”

    And so, with that I did rise, giving a contented sigh.

    I said to Grandfather Tree, “Thank you kind sir for helping, sheltering, and loving me.”

    Again, his leaves in the winter wind he did shake, and gave a message for me to take.

    “When you partake of the land, do hear, and obey this simple command.

    Be wary of the older trees and treat them kindly if you please.

    For we are important too, and if you allow, we’ve much to share with you.

    May harmony find you, blessed be.”

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