“I love to be naked” – Trees.
There is some vulnerability in this season we call winter. It has two of my favorite things: apricity and leafless trees. Snow is beyond favorite, so I don’t even say anything about it.
Apricity is an old English word that means the warmth of the sun on a winter’s day. It comes from the Latin word aprīcitās, which means “sunshine”. I think about it when I walk in a forest. It is see-through now because trees have no leaves. Only in the wintertime, the trees reveal their shape, their skeleton, their soul. No matter which tree it is and how old it is, it’s beautiful, harmonious, and powerful. Why don’t people appreciate each other the same way?
I walk through the forest, and the sun makes me squint. I feel its gentle warmth on my cheek. I stop and find the place where the sun would be hidden behind the trunk of a tree so I can observe the landscape in contre-jour, and I can see far: there is a lake, there is a trail, there is a hill, there is a sky, the is an eagle in that sky.
I turn around and look at the old tree behind me. I come by and my hands are reaching out to its trunk for a hug, as if I expected to be hugged back. I breathe. I can feel the tree’s calmness and the updraft energy from Earth going through it. That’s, I can imagine, how my father would hug me if he was around. And all of a sudden, I become aware of the active stillness of a tree and our deep, tender connection. And this childish thought runs through my mind: “You won’t go anywhere, will ya?”
My chest gets tight, and as the release follows, I wish I had a tissue with me. Nature, with its simple, equalizing stillness yet constant change, is always there.
I can see a gigantic orange sun coming down.
All the trees are perfect, maybe because they are simply alive.
