Musings from the Sanctuary: The Tree of Life
Instead of a narrative journal, I keep a journal of poems and stories. It’s my way of capturing some of the intense emotions that I encounter on my life journey. It provides a very personal record of who I was, contrasting with who I am now. The first year of my RA experience was pretty tough. The pain and swelling were much worse than they are now, and the struggles with denial and the grief over things I had lost were pretty intense. I found some things to cling to that provided hope in the midst of the dark clouds that were looming over my life. One thing I still wear as a symbol of that hope is a necklace with a Celtic emblem called the “Tree of Life”. For me it is a spiritual symbol of re-birth to a life free from the pain and anguish we experience here on this earth. My life experiences are like the food stored in a seed, my body the shell that will someday crack open and release the essence of life inside. From the seed will grow a tree whose branches extend beyond my current physical existence. Ok…you’re starting to think I’m a bit looney…maybe you’re right, but it’s something I still cling to when I’m feeling overwhelmed and depressed. It’s a powerful picture in my mind that illuminates the dark places. This is the poem that I wrote to capture my feelings during that time. The poem switches back and forth between the image of this seed and the reality of each day’s experiences. I shared it once before quite a while ago, but I’ve found new meaning in it lately and thought it might speak to some others who have been struggling recently…maybe it’s something you can cling to as well.
The Tree of Life
By Alan Duncan
A rigid shell, impenetrable, varnished by time
Sinking slowly through dark soil, drifting sublime
Into restful slumber, anticipating fate
Will stir the restless powers that wait.
I woke to the rays of the morning sun;
Icicles of pain, dripping from faded dreams, run
Through my mind, setting into familiar places,
A gasp, a sigh, and resignation fill the spaces.
Darkness reigns inside the shell, a hollowness
Slowly filling with murmurings of life's excess.
Memories find solace in darkened shadows,
Lit by flickering tales of friends and foes,
I walk with painful limp to the bedroom window,
The sun warms my face, my blood flows slow,
Sluggish from the coldness of restless sleep,
My impatient heart stutters and skips a beat.
No longer hollow, the shell fills with mindful joy,
Prizes of wood and rock, clutched in the fist of a small boy;
Love flares brightly, enduring as grief and loss,
A secret aroma from a seasoned sauce.
Though barely awake, I'm tired, filled with fatigue,
Having journeyed far, a life in league
With silent companions of sorrow and pain,
My body distorted and twisted by the strain.
Inside the shell, once more my child is born,
Breathed by God, his life is torn
From nothingness to wondrous grace,
His glowing spirit mirrored in my face.
I rise from the bed and walk to the door,
Rustling and creaking from me and the floor;
I step outside, shaking dust from brittle bones,
Trembling hands clutching rails of polished stones.
The shell is full now, bursting with treasures of life spent
Dancing with a goddess of lusting passion, sent
To lead a lonely man to heights of ecstasy,
A gentle touch to set the spirit free.
Painted stone frogs lead me to a bench by the path;
I sit down hard, provoking my body's wrath,
Jarring my mind to sense with crystal clarity
A living drink of divine charity.
Inside the shell, a memory of consummated love,
Pounding hearts entangled, releasing a spirit dove,
Calming the fire, my heart leapt with joy and sighed;
When she lived, I lived; when she died, I died.
On the bench, I sit in the shade of our tree
Planted in our careless youth, a sign for all to see
Of lives forever entwined, rising to the light.
I smiled; it is enough to see me through this last night.
The shell sinks deeper into the earth, leaving human shores,
Awash in a fertile sea of ripening seeds and spores.
With an anguished moan, the shell is ripped and torn.
God spoke, a new life was born.
I awoke in my bed, a shrieking pain in my heart,
Turning dust to ashes, let my spirit depart,
Flee this wrinkled shell, leave these earthly pains;
The dust settled, only an empty shell remains.
We are the tree, the tree of life,
Planted in seasons of joy and strife,
Our branches lift to the heavens above,
And in our shade springs newfound love.
I hope you find peace and joy in your life,
Alan