Hello Readers- well, after saying “goodbye for awhile” last week, I’m back already, at least for today. I guess my wife is right when she says I can’t stay quiet too long…
I was wiped out for three full days this week, plus the initial “night of horror” when the stomach bug hit its hardest. The dates were March 7, 8, 9 and 10.
The physical effect was brutal but really only lasted about 24 hours. The mental quagmire and depression that followed was difficult, and harder to shake until I realized that I hadn’t remembered.
A few years ago something similar happened. Not stomach virus that time, just a deep, draining and disturbing mental malaise that lasted for a few days, unready to break until I remembered. I had forgotten that time too. Those dates were March 8, 9 and 10.
Several years before that, when I had forgotten for the first time, I experienced something similar. Those dates were in the exact range of March 7-10.
One morning in 2012, as I was heading out to work, I was alarmed to see several large tree-cutting trucks poised to bring destruction to the lot of massive pine trees on the property behind mine. The plot was the original town cemetery, and it housed roughly two dozen fully grown pine trees that had seen at least a century and a half of life. I loved those trees and the peace, beauty and spirituality they brought literally to my backyard. Cutting them down on flimsy reasoning was unthinkable, but it was happening.
I got nauseous.
Hoping it was a mistake, I came home at lunch to see that half of the majestic pines had already been taken down, with the others waiting to be next.
I got ill.
By the end of the next day, the once thickly-forested plot of land had been practically clear-cut, with only a few trees remaining.
I remained physically and mentally sick for several days.
The dates of the miniature forests decimation were March 7, 8 and 9.
I vowed to remember.
And mostly I have.
Every time I gaze over my back fence at what used to be.
Every time I drive down the alley alongside our properties.
Every time I walk into the place where the trees used to be; a green, sunny meadow where I stretch after a run.
But those dates are not March 7, 8 or 9. Those remembrances are good, but not good enough.
The trees, their spirits, and the totality of what and who they represent, call to be remembered on the days they impacted me the most. March 7, 8 and 9.
Maybe my brain and body know this, and cut me down on those anniversaries when I forget, until I stop forgetting.
Maybe it’s the spirits themselves calling on me to remember their power, how important it is to me to be close to it, and where I can still find it in their absence from that sacred plot of land.
When I forget the anniversary of the trees, I get ill in some way. Every time. When I realize what I’ve missed and acknowledge the oversight, I feel better quickly.
I live about an hour from Gettysburg, PA- the site of a historic, gruesome and horrible Civil War battle. Not unrelated, the town is also a widely known hotspot for paranormal activity.
I didn’t travel to Gettysburg very often, but when I did, I was nearly always nauseous. Never having paid enough attention to my history classes, I didn’t understand the level of pain and suffering that had exploded through town over a century ago, and lingers on paranormally today.
When I learned more details about that battle, and acknowledged, at least to myself, the immense pain and suffering that took place there, my Gettysburg health issues relieved quickly.
Spirits, or whatever we call these things, have ways of getting our attention and reasons for wanting to have it. May we be open to their calls.
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Oh my. What a story—and what an impact your experience has on my heart. Every time I see a tree come down for whatever reason, it feels as if a piece of me has been amputated. In many cases, it may be for good reason, but in so many others, it is to satisfy greed of those who seek materialism rather than spirituality. Your story is a powerful reminder that we are all a divine part of nature and that everything and everyone matters. Perhaps your recognition of the cause of your seasonal illness will mark the end of it. Thank you for returning to your keyboard long enough to share this story.
Thanks for reading, commenting and understanding Julia. 🙏 I agree that we are all connected to everything through nature.
I’m so glad to see your post…an example, I think, of writing when there’s a purpose or a story that needs to be told. And this one? Oh my. I’ve had two experiences in my life where a physical place made me ill and one of them is still a location I need to drive by and it’s a problem – every time. It’s hard to understand why we’re compelled to remember and feel so deeply, but your processing and conclusion? I’m with you. May we be open…even when receiving is daunting. 💕
Thanks Victoria- it is hard to understand sometimes. It can’t all just be coincidental- it’s too much.
Agree! And glad to hear you’re feeling better, btw! 🥰
Thanks! 😊
That is so much stronger than a coincidence. I would feel sick over the loss of those trees, too.
Thanks E.A. – removing them was senseless.
I was upset when our neighbors asked us to take out a Palm Tree because it was pushing into the wall between our homes. It had to be done, or the wall would have come down, but it still made me sad.
Sometimes it does have to be done.
Glad you are feeling better, Todd. I have a similar reaction when I see the ruins left on the vacant lot next door where there was a lovely woods before Hurricane Ian. I try to remember that less shade is good for our grass. The lot is being colonized by interesting native shrubs that flower in the spring. The raccoons and the birds are still here… Life goes on.🌸🌺🌼
Thanks Cheryl! That’s too bad about the hurricane damage but at least some good things are still happening in that area, and in this case, nature did the damage on its own.
I have never believed in spirits, but after reading your experience I may change my mind. Happy that you are back Todd!
Thanks Cristiana! I was skeptical about this type of stuff for a while too.
Hey Todd! I’m glad you’re here to fill the void today. For the first time since I started writing for Wise & Shine in October, I didn’t publish a Monday post. I had a busy weekend and just didn’t have any time to sit down and think of something to write. I’m blaming it on the lost hour! 😂
I would have been so sad to see those trees disappear, too. We lost a tree behind our house in a wind storm this winter. It makes me sad.
I’m glad the post time worked out! I checked the drafts folder and didn’t see anything scheduled for today – I was hoping to hop in quick without getting in anyone’s way. 😅
Todd thanks for sharing your experience. Having trees that old taken down would be heartbreaking. I feel sad whenever we do spring and fall clean up at our cabin and we have to remove a tree that might be ready to fall down. Even if a tree has come down naturally it makes me sad, especially when it’s an older one. Take care Todd.
Thanks for reading Margaret- I appreciate your comments 🙏
I really believe that our body restores memories and remembers them. It is a powerful story and reminder of the wisdom residing within us and our connection with Mother Nature. Thanks a lot for sharing it and your sensitivity.
Thanks Parisa! I agree – our connection to nature is strong even though we might often need reminding.
May we be open to those calls — yes! What a powerful piece about the long-lasting implications of our destruction. Thank you, Todd!
Thanks Wynne! 🙂
Heartbreaking