Wisdom from a tree
I wonder what beauty will grow in the ashes of this pandemic.
Welcome to the first issue of Nourish, a newsletter to help you be kinder to yourself and others. I'm Erin Strybis, a writer, mama, bookworm and believer. In your May 2020 issue, find a reflection, self-care tips for this uncertain season, a connection prompt and more.
Dear reader,
It was my second day at Holden Village and first hike in the Cascade mountains — what I thought was the start of an epic quest. Energy surged through my legs as I threw my body into the first incline, but I nearly toppled over when our guide stopped us yards from the trailhead.
“Here it is,” she whispered, spreading her arms wide. Dozens of charred trees pierced the hardened November earth. I looked over at Emilie, who seemed to be meditating. Here is what? Something was out there in the forest still blackened from the cataclysmic fire of 2015, but I couldn’t see it. I shifted my feet.
Finally she spoke in one revered exhale: “This was the mother earth tree.” Emilie pressed her hands on a thick stump whose edges resembled crusted lava and told us Mother Earth had towered over the village for 260 years before the fire, before she had to be cut down. The villagers had held a ceremony to honor her. A ceremony for a dead tree? My lips remained sealed but my face read quizzical. I wanted to get on with the hike. Perhaps noticing that I wasn’t getting it, Emilie, also the village artist, added, “You know, you can find a lot of beauty in death and darkness.”
Her words cut deep. “I do know about that,” I wanted to say, but I’d only just met her. Instead I nodded and stepped forward to trace my fingertips along Mother Earth’s growth rings until I reached the pale yellow center of the stump. The wood there seemed brand new.
I’ve been thinking about this memory since the covid-19 pandemic began. It feels as if a massive fire is ravaging the planet. Here in the United States, we’re reeling — we’ve lost loved ones, our livelihoods, significant events, a sense of security and more. It is impossible to know the full impact of this crisis because the flames are still burning. But this moment in the woods comes to me because I sense we are all feeling a little lost and eager to get on with our journeys. Many of us are asking, "Why are we here?" and "How long must we wait?" There are no easy answers to these questions. I believe there are more helpful questions we might ponder, such as "What is happening?" and "Who will I become?"
In the short while I've graced this earth, I've learned a thing or two about pain. I'm sure you have, too. Sometimes it takes traveling halfway across the country to a remote retreat center to stare at a 260-year-old stump to see the truth you hadn't noticed — that you'd been running away from your fear and pain rather than accepting it. We are all hurting in myriad ways. Many of us feel afraid. And yet, we're also discovering something new. Gratitude. Grace. Sacrifice. Surrender.
Maybe what we’ll need when this is over is time for collective and individual mourning. A chance to honor everyone and everything we've lost so we can begin again.
When we finally started our hike on that clear November day, an enchanting red-tinged, straw-like plant kept appearing in clumps along the narrow path. Emilie told us it was firegrass, one of the first plants to return after a forest fire.
I wonder what beauty will grow in the ashes of this pandemic. What will we learn? What will we resurrect?
While you wait on the threshold, remember to take good care of yourself and others. Seize joy and hope. Your resilience depends on it.
NOURISH YOURSELF
Listen: "When I’m thinking about joy, I’m thinking about — that at the same time as something wonderful is happening, some connection is being made in my life, we are also in the process of dying." This episode of On Being with one of my favorite poets, Ross Gay, provides key perspective as we face this pandemic. I love Gay's reflections on claiming happiness amid hardship.
Savor: I discovered this elegant rice and bean dish from Nicole Gulotta and it instantly earned a spot in our recipe rotation. It’s simple, comforting and derives its rich flavor from a secret ingredient — coconut milk. If you’re in need of a sweet treat but can’t find flour, try these healthy cookie bars. They’re my go-to dessert, and I bet you’ll never guess their secret ingredient.
Breathe: Struggling to sleep? Me too. On nights when my mind runs wild with worry, I turn to my yoga practice for guidance. I lie on my back in bed, visualize my mind as a blank slate and focus only on my breathing. In this article, learn about 1:2 breathing, which eases anxiety and promotes healthy sleep.
NOURISH OTHERS
Fight hunger: If you have the means and ability, donate to your local food bank. I learned from years working with social service colleagues two things: (1) If you want to drop off canned and dry goods, call ahead to learn what's running low and donate that. (2) Sometimes financial donations are more meaningful than food items so staff can use the funds where they’re needed most. Find your local food bank here.
Preserve memories: Families of all ages may enjoy marking this moment in history by creating a time capsule. Find an empty cardboard or plastic box to serve as your capsule. Decorate it, then fill with items from this era such as a takeout menu, school worksheet or piece of mail. Consider writing letters to your future selves and stuffing those in. Our family's working through these adorable Time Capsule worksheets created by Jessica Turner.
Fight loneliness: Reach out to two people outside of your typical group. Consider your single elderly neighbors or relatives, parents of young children or your friend who's an essential worker. Call or text and ask them how they are doing. Really listen. You could also surprise them with a letter via snail mail or email. If you pray, add them to your prayer list and let them know you’re praying for them.
NOURISHING WORDS
A few great reads: Cherry and Lit by Mary Karr, A Private History of Awe by Scott Russell Sanders, Tell Me More by Kelly Corrigan and When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi (these last two are tearjerkers). If you plan to purchase one of the aforementioned books, consider ordering it from your local independent bookstore.
Here's a poem I wrote about practicing yoga and care for others while sheltering in place. I'm grateful to the Exhale Creativity team for reposting it.
"Much has changed since Luther introduced a new lens for vocation — we’re living with new technologies, cultural challenges and environmental issues. The only constant is that God continues to call each of us to love and serve our neighbors.” A very Lutheran analysis of vocation. (I also wrote this one.)
"When this is over, may we never again take for granted // A handshake with a stranger // Full shelves at the store // Conversations with neighbors // A crowded theater // Friday night out // The taste of communion // A routine checkup // The school rush each morning // Coffee with a friend // The stadium roaring // Each deep breath..." These words from Laura Fanucci should be framed. Oh wait, someone did that!
Speaking of gratitude, I wrote a blog post about working motherhood, unforgettable sunsets, and what I hope my son remembers from this time.
Finally, here's a concept I learned from a colleague: "[Sisu] is a type of mental toughness that allows you to bear the burden of your responsibilities, whatever they happen to be, with a will and perseverance that is unbreakable. ... It is what you rely on when you feel like you have nothing left."
Beyond sisu, as a person of faith, I believe there is Someone I can rely on when I'm weary, Someone who accompanies me through life's valleys even when my trust falters. I believe we do not journey alone.
Grace and peace,
Erin