We are entering the cycle of wood, here in the northern hemisphere, within a taoist five-element perception of the world. I am attracted to new growth in spring, life, seeds and sprouts – yes. I also find continuous imagery that leads me to wood as fallen trees, by age, by weather, and mostly by saw of human purpose… I am a recent student of acupressure, in the 5-element tradition, where our winter corresponds to the water element, followed by spring and wood. Fire burns in summer, earth comes next in harvest, followed by the metal of fall. So, I am looking at images, searching for some clarity, and questioning my established judgments, in both my learned and remembered languages.
I rely on and go back to a few precious trusted written manuals (enlightenment can be quite expensive!), but my words come mostly from what I learn in practice, as I slowly discover a few of these ancient meanings. The internet is a magnet for self-inspired light points, but I am not a moth, and not quite keen on light. Still rather find deep attraction to atolls in the middle of the pacific ocean, in moonless nights… Wood is seen as the time to envision dreams, for the imagination to intuitively decide to start anew. Again, within the Chinese 5-element mode, Hun is the spirit of wood and said to represent the ethereal soul. The lexicon wants to give me ghost like, and that is very interesting, I’ll keep in check. My teaching diagrams give me the liver and the gall bladder, directors of movement in the body, the liver in the planning stages, the gall bladder, the carrier of instruction. Would the ethereal soul in me be the one in you that knew it came from elsewhere, the stranger? It also feels like I am entering a cycle of direct movement, choppy rhythms, impulse and not many waves… but then again, if I stop to photograph fern in time lapse, or pea sprouts seeking the directions of light beam, there is no gentler motion, wave like, than those…?
Or if I catch a cinnamon fern unfurling, and remember the ruby-throated hummingbirds, soon to arrive, feathering their tiny nests with the swishy soft silk of ancient ferns, in just a month or so…
Tenacity of life, so tender and yet so fierce - the indomitable spirit of hun and of wood.
In a beautifully illustrated book about acupuncture, Debra Kaatz explores the mythical and hieroglyphic wisdom meanings of each of the five elements, the many meridians crisscrossing the body and the many points associated with each one.
In her words:
“The Chinese character for spring, chun(R72), is the bursting forth of vegetation over the character of the sun. It is the time when the warmth of the sun returns, and life pushes forth everywhere. It is said that in the spring the green dragon of the east blows the eight winds into the earth and brings forth a thousand flowers.”, in Characters of wisdom, Taoist tales of the acupuncture points.
The notion of balance and harmony creeps in again, within the seasonal natures of outside and inside. I love her quote about the Emperor and his gardens: “When a season itself was out of balance, then the Emperor would go to his tower in the inner gardens of the palace and rest in meditation until he understood what to do, by listening to his heart and allowing it to fill with heavenly wisdom.” With that thought in mind, I find my other images of spring, still so strong in my life now, that also talk to me about wood. The impressions that do not wish to disappear or turn-soft-self-help get-rid-of-ego embrace-the-universe dance…
If I can dance, my muse is a tree like this one, and not a soft, romantic poem. I then remember that anger is the main emotion associated with wood!
Ailton Krenak, indigenous leader in Latin America, an environmentalist, philosopher, and poet appears, once again. By indigenous, I mean, he and his ancestors come from the place where I, much later, was also born from my ancestors, as an immigrant. I belong to a similar space and the visionary spirit of Wood inhabits his words. “Life is wild, we have to stop covering everything with asphalt and cement.”
And Nilson Pimenta, another visionary Brazilian artist, who painted the fallen forests of Mato Grosso, in Brasil.
In this sense, the spirit of Wood might involve, integrate and embrace the tenacious creativity and capacity towards visionary change.
Nilson Pimenta, again, interpreting wood visions, at the Fondation Cartier ‘Nous les arbres’ exhibit. From the wealth of diamonds to the patronage of trees!
and to end, a little poem from before. Fallen trees Plot, characters, scenes, chapters, protagonists, heroes, villains, and pirates can populate the blank space in the page of fallen trees. But not the poem. The poem must rest briefly there, breathe lightly in the shade, ask forgiveness for the chunk it takes away from us and from the forest, and bury inside, the composting jungle of memory. Árvores tombadas Tramas, enrêdos, cenas, capítulos protagonistas, heróis, vilãos e piratas podem habitar o espaço branco da página das árvores tombadas. Mas não o poema. O poema precisa pousar breve respirar leve na penumbra delas pedir perdão pelo pedaço nosso que arrancou da floresta E se enterrar na compostagem da selva na memória.
Beautiful, like the seed bursting through, you take us on a journey to new growth!
You write so beautifully!