I have always called the cedar tree (Thuja occidentalis) by the pronouns she and her. I don’t know why; it just felt right. She first brought me her magic when I really needed her during a time of spiritual and emotional crisis in 1985. I was alone at a writing retreat in the oak forests of central Missouri. It was deep winter and I was the only person on the writers’ colony land, where I rented a small house.
The sturdy oaks around me seemed to reflect my oak-ish host, the colony’s director. A tall stick of a person, she lived in her own house set back on the land. She began to grate on me as she insisted on being my spiritual teacher when I wasn’t looking for one. It was a time when I was struggling to stay grounded in myself without needing approval from others. Part of the rental agreement included daily readings and check-ins with my host. These sessions became minefields for me, filled with insidious hidden agendas and expectations which not only did not suit my purpose there (writing), but had the added prickliness of someone wanting to denigrate and correct my earth-based spiritual life. This seemed to be a test of my convictions.
One day, while walking off a particularly thorny encounter with her, I felt shaky and victimized. I eyed my rubber boots with each step I took along a muddy path, practicing a feeling of being fully grounded in my own truth. I loved those boots. Just looking at them as I walked gave me a strong sense of ‘me.’ My body, my ways. Focusing only on my boots and the mud beneath them, I found my determination to walk my own way. Then, suddenly sensing greenery to my right in an otherwise wintry desiduous environment, I looked up from the ground and saw a small cedar tree who beckoned me to her with a sweetness that compelled me to visit her. I stayed under her branches allowing my head to be brushed again and again with her young bows until I felt a familiar presence coming through her. At the time, I called this presence ‘my angels,’ a favorite reference for the very real sensation of close presences of spirit in my life. These angels have since expanded to include The Divine Mother in all her forms, and others I notice around me and call upon.
I visited this tree every day for a regular dose of Spirit and grounding. I began to receive valuable messages as well as reassurance. She got me through some hard times with her gentleness, her grace and the reliable channel to both Earth and Spirit. Fifteen years later, while learning from a teacher in the Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) tradition, I would find that Grandmother Cedar is a sacred tree who is, indeed, called by the pronouns she and her. She is a holy tree who breathes life into us and ‘saves the people.’ Yes, she did that for me, long before I knew she was my Grandmother. I still rely on her for her gifts. Thank you, Grandmother.