Wetland Development — Reawakening the Spirit

When I first thought to write this story I was full of anger and anguish. About 8 days have gone by and I feel somewhat differently about everything. So much had coincided with my experience this past week, that at times I felt overwhelmed, with little hope for the future of this planet. The recent tragic loss of so much life in the Greek village of Mati near Athens, accompanied by raging wildfires throughout California and other parts of the world grieved me immensely. All I could see was destruction, along with my own recent personal experience that left me in tears and triggered the onset of immense sadness and overwhelm at the state of the world. And yet, I'm sure there were miracles that occurred in Greece, like the story of this little dog that survived against incredible odds. This is my story about Willow.

I grew up alongside a tributary of Cayuga Creek where the waters sometimes reached the level of our home and occasionally flooded our basement. One summer we had left for Germany to visit my grandparents and other family, only to return to a basement flooded with water with many possessions lost. The tributary ran behind our house that had been built in the 1950's. My father had painstakingly planted most of the trees and shrubs that grew on our property. In the backyard was a Willow that I often climbed or played under with my cats. When my parents sold that house, the new owner eventually cut down all the trees and hedges that had given privacy, shade and beauty. At the time, I didn't realize the significance of Willow in my life nor all that tree had been doing to absorb water from a development that had likely been built way too close to wetland. Willow would continue to play a significant role in my life.

When I moved to my current home, the remnants of a Willow tree that had once stood tall lay in a heap next to a wooded area of the property. The tree had been struck by lightning during a storm and its stump later burnt to the ground. I wrote a story of my experiences in The Renewal of Willow. It wasn't until many years went by that I realized the immense need for this Willow tree and her water absorbing/purifying qualities due to the many problems I experienced with the land, which held an underground spring, if not several. I planted many trees to replace her like Sycamore, various smaller trees of the Willow family, as well as numerous gardens, while existing trees matured and meadows were allowed to develop. However, Willow's power and ability to transform were undeniable. The land was former wetland located in a town that had overdeveloped its floodplain areas and often allowed developments or redirected water where it should not have.

In this same town where I now live is a beautiful park that has been undergoing immense transition over the 8 years since we moved here. Many of the older Pines, Firs and other trees have been lost to insects and/or disease or are currently weak, yet many new trees continue to be planted year after year by the park's crew. Many of them most likely I will never see mature for various reasons. The park is full of wildlife. Last year an old Willow tree had fallen over due to strong winds and storm that have been becoming more and more frequent in our area. I was happy this spring when the Willow still lay where she had fallen. No doubt management of the park knew her ability to renew and had left most of her trunk intact with only the branches taken away.

Last week while walking in the park with my dogs, a Red Tailed Hawk drew my attention. It seemed to have prey in its mouth and flew to where this Willow had fallen. It was an area I had not walked in a while. Much to my delight, the Willow had renewed herself and was now a fountain of bright green cascading branches. My heart swelled to see how beautiful she was though now just probably about 6' tall, a fraction of what she once was. The Hawk sat on her torn up roots, a perfect place to eat his mouse meal and survey his hunting territory. As he flew away, I walked up to the Willow to get a closer look and caress her shining, light-filled leaves. I was happy. She gave me hope that even though something terrible could happen amidst a natural disaster, the power of restoration is always there as long as Nature is allowed to be.

Willow has long been seen as a tree of healing due to her inherent anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving properties found in today's aspirin. She is also associated with magic, poetry, and music. The goddess Persephone, whose story is one of rebirth after descending into the darkness of the bowels of the Earth, is associated with Willow trees. As time goes on, I realize more and more why I relate so much to this tree and what she has taught me throughout my life, which has followed a path that was never straight and narrow, but ever winding in sinuous ways into the unknown.

"Willows are water loving, and water is an archetypal symbol of the feminine energies of birth, creativity, intuition and the moon. Willow is a magical and healing tree."-- Ted Andrews, Nature-Speak

Three days after visiting Willow, I was walking late in the park. It was almost dark as I stopped to talk with one of the park caretakers that I have become friends with. I took this opportunity to tell him about my experience with the Willow and the Hawk. He hesitated with his response and asked "which Willow?" I replied "the one not too far from here." With sadness, he replied that the Willow had been cut up and grounded that very morning. He had not been there and his supervisor had given the orders to other workers. I could not believe his words. How could they? It was obvious this tree had survived and had still been very much alive. I had just seen its display of vitality the other day. What were the chances of all this happening in a matter of days?

His reply suggested that this tree may not have been part of the 'master plan' and yet he even added "a master plan is what you make it". It was clear this tree had not fit the criteria of ecology management in the park. The Willow's rebirth had not fit into that square box that so often is held by park management and institutions. Given the flooding problems the park had experienced during torrential downpours in recent years, it seemed a huge mistake to me to kill this Willow. Such a water loving tree was at home in this park when so many others were dying or struggling because they could not handle the land and water energies in the park where nearby Cayuga Creek had been dammed and partially redirected.

I thought in anger, how very typical of the male dominated world, where the feminine power is so often intentionally suppressed, controlled or destroyed. The power to heal is contained within all humans, but even more so in the feminine energy that gives birth to all life. Here had been a perfect example of this sacred tree's ability to heal and renew herself, and despite her obvious demonstration, her life had been snuffed out by men who were just following orders from another man without questioning their validity or appropriateness.

In the dark I walked over to where that green fountain of light had once sprung and that night I grieved immensely for that enduring tree that had just a few days ago given me such delight. I was so angry at the ignorance of man and a supervisor's decision to snuff out the light of this miraculous tree that is known for her regenerative abilities. The following day I took my dogs and walked over to where the Willow once was. There was no Hawk. There was only mulch where the green cascading branches once stood. I looked amidst the rubble for branches but there seemed to be none. Of all the times for workers to be meticulous! But there, amidst the ground up remains of Willow, was one tiny branch that had not been carried off. It had so little life left in it but I carried it off anyway and continued on my walk.

A mature Willow (not the ones in this story)

I had little hope of this branch sprouting, but I put the sprig in a glass of water to see if it would root. Willow is a tree that has the unique ability to sprout roots simply by placing a branch in the ground. The daughter of the Willow tree that once stood on my land, lives on a neighboring property now tall and grand. My neighbor a few doors down, once told me he loves trees and years ago had taken a small branch and placed it in the ground on his property. Now its grace and majestic branches provide shade and water absorption for his land memorializing the Willow that once stood here.

Today is Lammas or Lughnassadh, the day of celebration for the first grain harvest- a day of giving thanks for abundance, practiced for centuries by English-speaking and Celtic traditions. As I looked at my tiny Willow sprig in the jar this morning, I couldn't think of anything more appropriate than a miraculous display of enduring life in front of me. Much to my surprise, tiny nodules had appeared where new roots were growing and there were two new sprouts of leaves. The sight of this new growth gave me a moment of joy. A seemingly insignificant thing many would say, but Nature has always spoken to me in symbolism via tiny details or little things that happen on my path. I am grateful for this tiny message received today. Perhaps I will be a majestic tree once more, this surviving branch says to me. I am Willow...

Clarissa Harison is an advocate for the natural world and has been writing since the 90s about her experiences with nature on behalf of those who have no voice. Her travels and observations healing her own land, as well as her diverse background in international studies, energy of space, the corporate world and consulting/teaching work have led her to develop an intimate understanding of the perfection existing in nature and our own individual journey of finding our way back to ourselves and ultimately restoring the well being of our planet.

It's been over 7 years since we first moved to this property in a suburban landscape. The land and I have been through quite a transformation during that time, some challenging and some magical. As this land has restored and renewed itself, I have also confronted severe health issues for the first time in my life. As I struggled with overcoming an autoimmune disorder, I began to come to terms with the origins of it-- the trauma held in the DNA of my family due to war tragedies and now the cells of my body essentially fighting themselves. It was obvious there was a deep connection which has been unraveling for many years.

I could feel that the land could not breathe. I felt it so deep that I had an anxiety attack one day that was so severe, my son called 911 when I could not breathe myself. My brother attributed it to the stress of the move, but as the years went by, I began to realize just how sick the land was. There was a reason for so many trees dying on the property and the stench of the soil that I could smell in the spring when this former wetland was swamped with water. Gradually I began to listen to the land, revitalizing it by creating gardens and planting more trees. I allowed meadows to grow in certain areas and gradually the plants and trees began to absorb all the excess water and transmute the fertilizer and pesticide treatments of neighboring properties. I also came to find out that this property had previously been treated with chemicals something which may have created to a toxic buildup of metals in my body and contributed to my disorder.

When I first came to this land, it was largely mowed lawn with a small wooded area created by a fallen Willow tree that had once anchored the energies of this land. Willows will continue to grow once fallen, ever renewing themselves, but after the Willow was struck by lightning, the previous owner decided to cut it down completely and burn the stump. So the severed limbs and trunk were piled into a wilder section of the property and the Willow began to decompose and become a haven for wildlife. Moss began to grow, fungi appeared and eventually the bark and wood formed a fertile ground for new life where wildflowers and other life could develop.

As the gardens naturalized, the wildlife returned. The orbweaver spiders appeared, all sorts of wild bees, butterflies and songbirds began to appear. I also immersed myself in beekeeping. Year after year the land began to heal and I began to heal myself. Throughout those years I supported myself trying to integrate my passions of writing, consulting and just enjoying life with continuing to work for other businesses helping owners to become organized or just following their direction. Sometimes the mundane routine was comforting and other times it frustrated me to no end. The fear of totally being on my own as a single parent was daunting and yet the stress of trying to manage everything was wreaking havoc on my body until I couldn't do it anymore and my immune system collapsed. The internal war I had fought much of my life had taken it's toll.

Being a sun sign of Leo with my Venus in Cancer, I have constantly struggled to integrate these warring aspects within me of fire and water. With my moon in Libra and my love for beauty and balance, it was even more problematic, but as time went on I knew I had the answers within me. My body was screaming to me to let go and pursue my passions, but I had consistently wavered. At least I had been consistent in being inconsistent. That moon in Libra can be very problematic.

Then last fall I began to notice mushrooms on my walks in nearby parks and also on my property that had not been there before. More than likely, most mushrooms on my land had been killed by lawn chemicals, but now over so many years as the land healed and began revitalizing, things that had not been allowed to take hold before, flourished. The stagnant water was being absorbed in a myriad of delightful ways.

One day I ate my first wild mushroom and that began my love affair with the fungi kingdom, something that had been developing for years but previously only from a distance. Having to overcome the fear of eating wild mushrooms, something that has largely been imposed by our modern society, I felt suddenly empowered. That day became a milestone for a very long journey that lasted 1 1/2 years. Though I rebounded numerous times during that period, I was slowly regaining my health. There were times I thought I would never be free of the pain and fatique, but eventually my strength returned.

On the Autumn Equinox, a black and white cat caught my attention in the wooded area of my property. She stood next to the largest mushroom I had ever seen on my property, an 8 inch Shaggy Parasol aka Chlorophyllum Rhacodes, a mushroom I had first identified last year and eaten several times enjoying its wild, earthy taste. Initially it had been difficult for me to reconcile eating what I thought was one of the most beautifully designed mushrooms I had ever encountered, but I knew that it was all part of the plan.

I knew these mushrooms from the Willow tree that had slowly been decomposing from the form that once was, had given me a gift on this sacred day-- a piece of her to revitalize my body once more. It was only fitting that I should feast on food of the Goddess, delicious red raspberries and wild mushrooms on the day of equal darkness and light. I knew deep in my heart that eating this wild food from Nature, from the land that was mine, from the land that had healed as I had healed, was the connection I needed toward the complete restoration of my health, as I continue the next step in my journey, this process of connecting more deeply to the Earth and my own heart.

2017 Copyright Awen Environments/Clarissa Harison. All photos and content subject to written permission by author.