Honored Tree Spirit, I give thanks to you,
…for the singing birds that you shelter
…for the music you sing in the breeze
…for listening to the voices of the creatures
…echoing the ancestors strength.

Respected One, I ask your permission and humbly request your presence for my guided purpose as Great Spirit directs.

All things belong to you, Creator, all things are sacred. So this day I honor you Tree Spirit and humbly Thank You.

Mitakuye Oyasin
– Hanoochi

We have cut down the trees. Not all of the trees, but enough that it feels like hundreds, even thousands. You might recall that during the ice storm in December of last year we feared for our lives. Now, with spring on the horizon and firewood in demand to boil gallons of syrup, it was time to make a change.

“Mitakuye Oyasin” is a prayer of the Lakota Indians. It means “All My Relations” or “We Are All Related.” That’s it. That is the whole prayer, just those two words, but when you think about it, there isn’t much more to be said.

According to a site that I found on the Web, “To pray this prayer is to petition God on behalf of everyone and everything on Earth. ‘Mitakuye Oyasin’ honors the sacredness of each person’s individual spiritual path, acknowledges the sacredness of all life (human, animal, plant, etc.) and creates an energy of awareness which strengthens not only the person who prays but the entire planet.”

Taking these trees took my breath away. I live in the house my grandparents built. These trees were the backdrop of my childhood. I can’t look into the yard and not remember my grandfather who meticulously cared for his forest like some Suburbanites cultivate their lawns. As a young girl, it was the way that this rugged man of the outdoors could connect to me and my siblings. My favorite memories are of walking these woods and visiting my favorite trees with my Pompa by my side.

But I’m not a little girl anymore, my Pompa passed away a long time ago, and these trees are no longer cared for. My heart broke a little when I came home and the tree cutters had already cleared away a large portion of the back yard, including a tree that I wasn’t even aware that I was attached to.

But what was done was done and there was no use sitting in a pool of lament. I spent the day wandering from window to window and watching these highly skilled men prune away what I finally realized were shadows of memories. These trees represented the memory of my grandparents, but they also crowded out the light of my very own existence in the same space. I was trying to grow my very own family in the shade of my past and we were all starting to wilt.

One by one, as the trees fell, I stopped holding onto what was and started to look at what had arrived: sunlight, and lots of it. Sunlight flooded into the house, illuminated the dark corners and warmed the floors and walls.

When it was all said and done, it took 2 days and about 25 trees. We held a little ceremony for the trees where we made offerings and gave thanks to the trees for their service and my grandparents for our memories.

My girls love playing in their room now that it is the sunniest one in the house. Brian and I walk about the yard planning out the locations of new gardens and fruit trees and bushes that I have been craving to plant.

I know that my Pompa would be happy. I can feel it. These trees were a part of my family’s life for so long, but they are a part that needed to move on, for the health of us all. I believe that my grandparent’s know that and are proud of me for doing the hard thing and will guide me as I continue to thrive from their beautiful legacy.

Mitakuye Oyasin

Tags: Poetry, Trees, Winter