Rooted

“Wonder rather than doubt is the root of all knowledge.” Abraham Joshua Heschel

(linocut by Geraldine Theurot)

One does not just grieve for the loss of people, one can also grieve for the loss of trees. I know I have recently. After Hurricane Helene passed through the area where I live, it was discovered that two of my grand old oak trees were severely damaged and compromised. One with root rot and the other had become so hollow inside that it was a miracle it hadn't already fallen. They were both cut down. In the place where once two beautiful oaks stood there is now two piles of mulch.

I grieve their loss. They had stood there giving shade to generations. They provided homes to owls, hawks, raccoons, opossums, and numerous birds. I used to look out my kitchen window on one and watched the birds amongst their branches. I used to sit beneath that oak, in the crook of its roots and read, or meditate, or simply be. I used to gaze up at its branches stretching out towards the sky in a form of praise.

Now when I look out my kitchen window, the old oak is gone.

It feels as if a part of myself is gone.

Now I consider what kind of trees I will plant.

The hurricane uprooted many old oaks in my neighborhood. As I walked and noticed these great fallen giants and stared at these roots that are so shallow, I began to think of the world that feels as if a storm has uprooted everything. It’s filled with chaos and noise and violence. I think of the upcoming election and how it has deeply unsettled and divided this country.

In what am I rooted in? I began to wonder.

Was this question a kind of prayer?