I once read that our spirits, after they have passed from life, live in the trees. that it is not ghosts that live in them because ghosts are “weak shadows of reality” and, if anything, that we are more ghostlike than the spirits living in the trees.
it really got me thinking about trees.
what is the oldest, most sprawling, wrinkled, weathered tree you have ever seen? where was it? was it mangled or chopped in places or were the roots growing from the ground? when you walked up to it did it feel as though you instantly felt more calm and reverent in the presence of something so huge and old?
I wonder if it’s naive or pretentious to think about trees this way.
in any case, it is something I entirely don’t understand but cannot deny, the existence of such feelings when I’m in close proximity to an old soul such as that of a tree. maybe God lives in them.
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