Margaret Cheasebro

When I walk my dog through the neighborhood, I sometimes stop to take a picture of a tree that catches my eye. Though my dog loves to walk, she patiently waits while I get just the right angle. Then we're on our way again.

Keeping my eye pealed for a tree that I want to photograph helps me to stay focused on the moment instead of thinking of what needs to be done at home. I find myself intrigued by birds flying through the air, a lizard skittering behind a clump of grass, my dog sniffing at whatever delectable scent her nose discovers.

In more quiet moments at home, I look at the tree pictures I've captured on my iPhone. They remind me that each image is a little bit like the moments that make up our lives. Each second contains a physical and emotional memory. What happened in that instant can be pleasant or can store varying degrees of pain.

I sometimes experiment with looking at each of those tree pictures and deliberately giving myself permission to let go of any unpleasant physical or emotional memories that might come up as I look at them. There are usually no unpleasant events around the taking of the picture. But, in its own mysterious way, my mind can be triggered by the photos. Suddenly, I am remembering something totally different that still holds pain for me.

If I allow my mind to find its own pathway to that pain, it presents a chance to heal from sadness, anger, confusion, indignation, fear or other emotions. The letting go process involves the willingness to dwell for a short time on the painful emotion.

That's the hard part. If I am willing to sit with that emotion, the feeling soon begins to soften until it releases or become so mild that it no longer triggers discomfort. The key is to be willing to sit with the pain until it lessens. It usually doesn't take more than a few minutes. If you sense that your painful memories are too great to handle alone, try this experiment with a counselor or a trusted friend.

Initially, I thought that walking my dog was something I did to help her explore the neighborhood, stretch her legs, and give me some physical activity. I didn't think about the emotional healing that can come when I look at pictures of trees I've taken on those walks.

I don't always take pictures of trees when I walk my dog. Sometimes I just enjoy every moment for the peacefulness it holds. And that's okay too. It helps to create pleasant memories, and I can never have too many of those.

I took my dog for a walk in the neighborhood late this afternoon. It was a short walk, because dark clouds around us looked like rain, and thunder shook the air.

Wind blew tree branches around, though not hard enough to break them. We headed home when I felt occasional raindrops touch my arms and face. By the time we got back home, the wind was whipping tree branches harder.

Now, as I sit at my computer writing this blog, my dog just ran in from outside. Her back is wet, and raindrops are spattering my window. I am glad we shortened our walk, which will be longer on a day with better weather.

As I watched tree branches blowing in the wind, I thought about Peter Wohlleben, who wrote the amazing book, The Hidden Life of Trees. In the bestseller, he wrote about how wonderful trees are, how much more incredible they are than many people realize. He said if we are going to save the world's forests, we must recognize how impressive trees are. They have an innate ability to adapt, they are intelligent, and they communicate with other trees and help them heal.

While a student in forestry school, he learned that trees were just an economic commodity. That's what he believed until he joined a German forestry agency and managed a community forest. He began to understand how incredible trees are, and he no longer agreed with what he had been taught in school about clear-cutting, chemical use and mechanical harvesting. Those methods focused on short-term profits but took no thought for sustainability. He believed there were tree-friendly ways to manage forests so that trees could thrive.

When a local mayor hired Wohlleben to manage that same community forest in an eco-friendly way, he demonstrated how it could be done well and profitably. He did not use insecticides or heavy machinery. Trees that needed to be harvested were taken down by hand, and horses hauled the trees out.

He gave people the opportunity to participate in a living gravestone project. They could pay to have their ashes interred at the base of an ancient tree. They paid the commercial value of the tree for the privilege of having their ashes placed there.

As I watched the wind blow through tree branches and the rain make designs on my window, I thought about how much better my front and back yards are to have trees in them. Not only are they beautiful, but they make me feel calmer when I'm around them. Peter Wohlleben said that trees communicate with other trees and help them heal. Sometimes I think that, in their own way, trees also communicate peace and calmness to us and help us heal.

When people are sick or experience an emotional upheaval, they often have a hard time staying grounded. Instead of feeling connected to the good old terra firma, they seem to be floating off somewhere. Talk to them, and they're a little flighty and unattached. Their mind wanders, making them unfocused.

How do you help someone like that? If they can walk, take them outside and sit with them near a tree. Trees are so attached to the Earth with their roots that their groundedness can have a positive affect on whoever feels a little flighty, unfocused, or unattached.

If they are too sick to go outside, buy a potted plant, something rooted in soil. Put that plant in their hospital room or bedroom where they can easily see it as they lie in bed. They may get a sense of rootedness from the plant. It could help them feel more grounded.

Talk with them about ways to feel more grounded. Have them imagine they are lying on green grass and feeling the firmness of the Earth through their bodies. Or imagine they are on a beach half buried in pleasantly warm sand. That feeling of being attached to the Earth helps people feel more connected to their own life in this present moment. It can help them heal faster and feel more enthusiastic about wanting to get well.

If they can't get outside and plants are not allowed inside, play a game with them. Each of you imagine a tree you have seen that made an impression on you. Take turns describing the tree you remember, what its bark looked like, how its roots grew into the soil, how you felt when you were near it. Whoever isn't doing the remembering should listen carefully. Just remembering the tree can help a person feel more grounded. And just being listened to can make them feel more whole.