by Béthany Pozzi-Johnson
I am sitting on a beautiful, pale green lichen-covered rock near my home, gazing at a tall piñon tree. It holds my attention. My eyes are focussed on the poise of the trunk and the gentle movement of the branches, and my heart is listening to its unique presence. I stepped outside with the intention of talking to a plant, or rather, listening to a plant, and Piñon called out to me.
As I listen, I keep my presence in my body. I hold my field of energy clear as the resonance that I am. My own Divine Essence is exquisite, and I am not seeking to replace my energy with that of the tree, or merge with the tree, rather, I am opening up to entrain with the resonant frequencies of my plant friend: my field matching its vibration in the way that is most supportive to my essence.
I search inside for a clear texture of my Light, and from there, I send a ping, a wave, a light pulse towards the tree. I breathe, and wait. I listen deeply as the tree’s harmonics interact with the light pulse that I sent out, and a wave of information returns to me. It is within my internal field that I will hear the influence, or what I call, “inspiration” that the tree elicits in me.
Plants have so much to say. They are speaking, or rather, singing, all the time. They sing their joy, their groundedness, their curiosity, their specific perspectives on beingness.
I have long loved playing in trees, though as a kid I didn’t realize that I was interacting with their energy field as much as with their physical form. Sitting in a tree near the apartment I grew up in, I felt cradled and cared for in sacred space. It had low-hanging branches that clearly suggested that I climb on them, stiff, waxy leaves, and a lovely sort of pine cone that was soft and furry when it would first fall to the ground in autumn. Between the leaves, the narrow, bright cutouts of sky contrasted with the dark foliage. Within this mosaic of light and dark, my mind was calm, my heart peaceful.
Over the years, I continued to pay attention to the Greenworld. I began a meditation and energy-awareness practice as a teen, and as this developed, I spent more and more time gazing at plants.
I found that they each had their own signature vibration, and each had a message for me. A specific species would regularly communicate a similar topic. Bleeding Heart, with its strings of bright pink heart-shaped flowers, encouraged me to experience my whole body as a heart chakra, while Oak reminded me that grounding is a fluid, flowing, light-filled relationship between self and the Earth. Chollo offered ideas in support of my creative expression. But each time I would lend an ear to their message, the information would be slightly different in form, or I could say, effect.
Sometimes I feel the response vibrating through my field, inspiring shifts in the texture of my own aura or the patterns of energy around my chakras, or through my physical body. Communicating with a Bleeding Heart resulted in my heartspace extending through my whole body and aura.
Other times, I see images or hear melodies inspired by the plant’s song. Oak showed me a light-filled, grounded flow of energy dancing with the earth’s light-field, while Chollo sang a lovely tight minor key lift and drop in melodic movement when I was looking to write a song about the land that it lived on.
Shamanic cultures across the world have close relationships with the Greenworld, regarding them as teachers, healers, and relatives. This specific technique was inspired by teachings from Nalini MacNab, though I have learned and practiced different communication techniques over the years. Plants communicate on many layers, and with a complexity and purity that is inspiring, playful, and powerful.
So today, I gaze at Piñon. I clear my field, and send out a ping. What I receive back is exquisite: the reminder of the infinite field of light that both I and Piñon are immersed in. Fields upon fields of light, the underlying texture of all of experience. I breathe deeply and relax my body into the field of light.
Thank you, Piñon.
