Guest Post By Michelle Girouard, with introduction by Martha Lucier
Yesterday my grandson Everest turned 4. I asked him what it feels like to be 4. He said “It feels like a tree…like the Grandmother Cedar Tree at your house Grandma!” What wisdom from a young child to help us remember to connect to the tree of life, to return to our childlike wonder when we forget who we are… ~ Martha
There is a tiny grandmother spirit living in the cedar tree at the Edge lakefront, nestled in a golden room with a bed. So small, and so old, as soft and as joyful as a baby.
The cedar tree gifted me with a deep and flushing and instant heart healing/clearing when I leaned into her while wearing a blindfold. I wept and wept. The next day, when the smudge smoke snapped to an end, the cedar song came out of my mouth, from deep within my chest. Lead me home. With a clear heart, I can see the path.
The cedar song is the voice of the wise grandmother tree. She sings directly to the medicine of homecoming, to the deep centre of our own truth; she sings straight to the power of protection for our healing hearts; she sings lovingly to the ancient knowledge of our soul’s purpose.
The dear tree whispers the medicine of home, groundedness, ancestry and quiet wisdom. She roots deep into Mother Earth while allowing her heart to dance in the spirit of the wind.
The great Cedar, in her song, calls us home to our own hearts like a compass to True North. She calls to us as we remember who we are and forget, again and again, as the rings spin deep within her trunk. The cedar loves us as our mother and teaches us how to mother ourselves while we walk our soul’s path through the winter seasons of our lives. As we long to feel her warmth when we are lost, so does she long to feel our pulse when we are away. When we are united with the great Cedar, when we sing her song and lift our eyes to the height of her skyward arms, the portal of our hearts are opened into great healing and wholeness. And we are truly at home.
Imagine visiting the roots of the Tree of Life, where all the grandmothers make their medicines, share stories, and quietly rest in front of the fire to receive nourishment.
What would it be like to venture there and receive a gift of nourishment?
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