Back around the Spring Equinox I went with a group of lovely singers out to sing with the ancient trees of Epping Forest. Some of us were known to one another, some of us were new. We sang, practised embodied tree contemplation, ate together and felt the blessing of community.
We also:
* Witnessed a flying torpedo dog out of nowhere make off with the last vegan sausage rolls before we could so much as yell with laughter
* Heard about song sharing and song circles, as well as songs trees and music within protest movements including the M11 link road protest nearby in Wanstead, William Morris and more recently HS2, and the Chipko Tree Huggers of the Garahwal Himalayas in Northern India.
Here are the songs we sang – with writers where known. Feel free to let me know if there are any I’ve missed/ misattributed.
Tuning Meditation performance score by Pauline Oliveros
And When I Rise – music by Seth Martin, lyrics from a poem by Wendell Berry
Sung metta meditation inspired by traditional Buddhist practice of the metta bhavana, group improvisation style
The Ancestors Song (or Grandmothers Song) by Sandy Vaughn
I Love the Trees performance score by Milla Gregor
Put Your Roots Down by Molly Hartwell
We also shared a few poems. Here are a couple of them –
David Wagener (1926-) Lost
Stand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying here. No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost to you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.
Naomi Shihab Nye (1952-) The Art of Disappearing
When they say Don’t I know you? say no.
When they invite you to the party remember what parties are like before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate. Then reply.
If they say We should get together say why?
It’s not that you don’t love them anymore. You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project. It will never be finished.
When someone recognizes you in a grocery store nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven’t seen in ten years appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs. You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second. Then decide what to do with your time.
