Confessions of a Certified (and Certifiable) Tree Hugger

October 16, 2014

By Joel Gillespie

OK, since I have been accused, I will go ahead and confess. Yes, I hug trees.

Though people are often referred to as tree huggers this moniker is not usually meant literally. It just means that the person cares about the environment or maybe wears sandals and eats granola. I do like granola and I do care about the environment, though I rarely wear sandals.

And I do love trees. Especially big trees, old trees, trees with character and history. Maybe that’s one reason I like Tolkien so much, for he so deeply loved trees too (For a wonderful essay about Tolkien and trees click here).

Now wouldn’t you love to curl up in the nook of a “limb” on Treebeard (who wasn’t himself a tree but was a tender and guardian of trees) and take a nap, or hear a tale of Fanghorn, or listen closely along with Treebeard to the deepness of the forest? I like to sit against trees, especially in the nooks between roots of really big ones, like Frodo did in Tom Bombadli’s forest. Thankfully the trees I sit against are nicer than Tom’s. And if I sit very very still against a tree in the forest soon the animals forget about me and go about their business and often come very close. I’ve seen lots of deer this way.

So sometimes when no one is looking I’ll wrap my arms around a tree to get a feel for how big and old it is. As far as I know a tree has no neurons or anything like them, though . Recent research has confirmed that some plants do transmit a a kind of electrical impulse. Trees also have hormones, and hormones allow one part of a tree to communicate with another. And plant cells have the ability to “store” information, though we cannot say, sadly that they have memories as we think of memories. But they just seem to have memories don’t they?

Trees, especially old trees, seem to have unique personalities. Even old trees of the same species are quite different from each other, and they each seem to have a unique story to tell if they could but talk. Trees point us back to the mystery of history, to stories we want to understand yet which seem just out of our grasp, to that mystery which is the past. This very old magnolia tree has a story I think:

Trees that disappear into the heights seem to want to tell a different kind of story, not of the past. They seem to point us to a deeper mystery with which our hearts desperately want to connect. In a literal way they reach up, pointing to the sky, to the heavens above. They get lost, shrouded in mystery, and we want to follow them into that mystery, for somehow it seems our own stories are made complete there. These trees seem to point us to our future, our destiny, but it is just a hint, just enough to keep us yearning.

So…if a man can “love” the earth, which seems appropriate and not weird, and if a man can love the beasts, which seems appropriate and not weird, and if a man can love a mountain which seems appropriate and not weird, can a man not love a tree as well, and it be appropriate and not weird? And cannot a man love certain groves of trees, and kinds of trees, and specimens of trees, as he would love his particular dog, or creek, or mountain? I think so. And so I confess, I love trees. I love the soil. I love the critters and beasts. I love mountains. I love the beach. And I love trees.I think C. S. Lewis would call this love the love of “affection.” It is deep and abiding, and many people share this affection for trees, and the land, and the soil, and unspoiled places. When you cut down their favorite grove of trees or open up to development that beautiful field you are not just removing inanimate objects, you are removing something beloved, and you are cutting into a person’s heart.I suppose I will keep hugging and loving trees. I will try to make the world of my grandchildren and great grand children better by planting more of them than I destroy, directly or indirectly. I will keep trying to preserve for the enjoyment of my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren special beautiful places so their lives can be rich and full of the bounty for which (I believe) God has created and with which he has blessed us.

People of faith often talk about “heaven” in a very nebulous non physical sort of way. For those whose faith is rooted in the Hebrew or Christian scriptures however, this picture just won’t do. The story of these scriptures points not to a mere “spiritual” as in non-physical end game, but to something far richer, to a “new heavens and a new earth.” Yep, a new earth. The narrative of these scriptures points to the restoration of the original creation, a creation teeming with life, and filled with trees and forests and animals! One might even say that the story of these scriptures is a story of garden restoration ( 🙂 ), where the primordial earth and the original garden finally find their freedom from bondage and live on and persist in all their intended glory.

And as to the tree hugging, and my confession, here is proof: