Weeping for the woods

I took a walk through a part of my mom's neighborhood that, for my whole life, was nothing but trees.

They've began building apartment complexes on the land, extending the roads, and the like. As I took in the sweet, sturdy energy of the tall, thin pine trees proudly overlooking the city, I noticed the orange plastic bands tied around their trunks. Marks for removal.

My eyes filled with tears and they spilled over, streaming down my cheeks. My shoulders heaved with each guttural sob. I felt like I was having a panic attack, a healthy version. I was halfway surprised I harbored such passion, so explosive I couldn't contain it.

Luckily the extended road didn't lead anywhere and so the road was empty. I was given my private, intimate moment with my evergreen friends.

Next door to my home, a community of healthy trees and ambitious vines were digesting an abandoned haunted house. I write about this house and these plants often, and will post more about them. They grew along the wall that my windows faced, and so every morning they greeted me with their thick, intertwining vines and branches. I watched squirrels scurry along these branches, hopping from tree to tree. I'd watched birds land there for brief breaks, flitting flirtatiously, chasing each other.

All of these plants have been removed recently and the house is being restored. The workers have left nothing but tree stumps and dark Earth. Occasionally, a bright green leaf will blow over to my front door. A temporary souvenir from my murdered friends, a reminder of the health of their community.

I've been forced to grieve the loss of my neighbors and understand this loss as part of the first-world genocide on trees.

I craned my neck up at my tall, powerful, plant allies, pleading them to tell me what to do. As a psychic, and as someone that listens to plants, the future doesn't look promising. I hope that I'm spared but even so, what of the world? There must be something I can do to stop this.

But all I can do is listen?

I stopped then and listened. I asked the trees how they felt. They told me they feel like they're at war with humans. Orphaned saplings were nurtured by the surrounding survivors, forced to stand amidst the graveyard that was once a thriving community, watching his people die one by one until his turn comes.

My heart aches. It is full of grief and hopelessness. I look around and see a very different Earth than most other humans, one where the leaf that trickles through the wind is as alive and sentient as you or your grandma. Watching happy, luscious, thriving communities turn into wasteland twists a dagger in my chest & pours lemon juice in the wound.

I also asked the pines how they were losing the war. They're strong and resilient, and without humans around to groom nature to our liking, the plants will easily eat up and break through all the structures we've built.

So how are they losing?

Humans are domineering and controlling. We stand no chance against trees naturally, the way they come to us, but with our machinery weaponized against them, they're left with few options.

The kind of power man has over nature is conditional. Man must ensure, through consistent violence, that the deluded perception of nature submitting to man is upheld. Man's tactic is Martian-- fast, aggressive, self- assertive-- while nature's tactic is Saturnian-- patient, disciplined, and requiring consistency.

Saturn rules Capricorn, the sign of cardinal Earth, while Mars is exalted here. Both planets do well in this environment. Both planets yield results.

So which strategy do you choose?

When you think about it, nature being non-submissive is a frightening thought. For a human, it is sometimes scary to accept that you don't have as much power, control, or wisdom as you'd like to pretend.