I was sitting in the middle of the trail, head down, looking at the carpet of pine needles and twigs. I could hear the stream tumbling over the rocks, just out of sight. The blue jays were causing a ruckus in the treetops and suddenly it dawned on me – I was in a group of a couple dozen humans and the only thing I could hear? Nature.
Yesterday, my dear friend Maya and I hosted The Great Fitz Hug A Tree Walk. We advertised it as “come get weird about trees with us” in celebration of National Tree Day and much to our surprise and delight, 25 people showed up. But for myself, an even bigger surprise was this: 25 people showed up to come hug trees with us... and it wasn't weird at all.
There is a tension in my life. It lives in the space between packing the kids’ lunches for school and walking in the woods. Between answering emails and drinking tea while watching the sun come up. Between all the things on my to-do list that need to be done and all the things that make me feel like I am truly living. Once, a friend put words to this feeling as we chatted over dinner and I think about it often. She described it as the difference between what is urgent and what is important.
The thing is, the urgent stuff is real. Lunches do need to be packed. Taxes do need to be filed. Someone needs to sign the kids up for swimming lessons and pop into Sobeys for milk. But the important things? They are patient. They will wait, unnoticed, for a long time, if you don’t stop and take a beat. I won’t get a text reminding me the apples are ripe and it’s time to make applesauce. The woods won’t complain if I don’t visit this week. The blue jays don’t ask what days I have free next month. The important things slip in between the couch cushions of life, waiting to be discovered the next time you do a deep clean.
Yesterday, I was proud. Proud that 25 people, despite busy schedules and to-do lists as long as their arms, chose to go on a silly little walk in the woods to hug some trees. We walked into the forest together. We slowed down, looked at mushrooms, put our arms around trees and rested our cheeks against rough bark. And for a moment, a couple dozen humans sat scattered in the woods and all I could hear was a stream and the blue jays. It was beautiful.
