The whole is more than the sum of the parts - Aristotle
It was 8:43pm on Saturday 8 August when the fierce sun set on a Kentish Serengeti, painting the sky a blood orange and red while intermittent clouds buffered the force of Sirius as it hurtled towards earth. The canvas of colours worked in harmony with a light breeze to orchestrate a tranquil end to an intensely hot day when temperatures peaked at 36 degrees. Under a cool canopy we sipped chilled rose wine and exhaled, feeling the forces of energy dissipate and a moment of calm.
The cool breeze gathered momentum and within an hour had become a strong, chilling wind that invited nightfall. We donned more clothes and watched a short stand up comedy routine featuring South African comedienne Urzila Carlson on an iPhone. With stomachs full of barbecued sausage and aching with laughter, we enjoyed nightcap of rum and ginger beer as sleep started to rap at the door. We finished our drinks and called it a day.
A small tent was my abode for the night and despite the unfamiliarity of my surroundings, I was tired and could have slept anywhere. As I lay down I realised it had been a while since my spine had been this close to the earth (lockdown had confined me to suburbia for the last four months). I drifted off easily under the warmth of the duvet and upon the comfort of a blow up mattress. I feel into a deep sleep, cocooned by the double canvas of a two person tent.
I woke up in the middle of the night, somewhat disoriented, but then quickly gained my bearings as the fresh air and close buzzing of insects and other species reminded me where I was. Parched, I sat up and took a few big gulps of water. I then lay back down and listened.
An endless row of elm trees nearby whistled loudly as they swayed against the full force of a mighty wind, producing a Psithurism as various parts of the trunks and branches responded differently through a creaking sound. Within these waving golden-rods, their inner spirits spoke loudly of their century lives.
I listened to their cacophonous roar and lay in awe of their largess as their protective shelter that soothed me into a relaxed state, while their kinesis produced an abundance of oxygen that lulled me back to sleep.
I woke again at sunrise as the trees greeted me again, this time in chorus with the birds, in a heraldic morning song that lifted the veil on a new day. I lay in the tent drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling the divinity of the ascended masters within some of nature’s finest forms.
When I finally woke up, I felt calm and relaxed. I recalled the stoicism of the trees and how they endured many seasons and decades as their spirits pass from one life to the next, triumphantly, as time goes by. I felt inspired by their grace and abundant protection in their soothing swaying. Like universal guides, they reminded me of an inner spirit within, one that is bigger than the meat-casing in which it resides.
I drank a coffee and went for run in dense woodland where there were even more pine and elm trees. The wind moved among them, as they talked loudly like guiding spirits tuning my ear to an inner voice, reminding me of the universe’s protection and the infinite part we play in it. Like great leaders representing an ancestral and spiritual lineage, their loud roar of the trees was a timely reminder of a divinity within us and everything around us.
