Rooted in Presence: The Art of Tree Hugging & Seeing the World Anew

There’s something magical about trees—their silent wisdom, their unwavering presence, the way they stand tall through seasons of change. I’ve loved trees for as long as I can remember, but my connection to them deepened when we first moved to Ontario. By the river, I found a tree with strong, welcoming branches, and it became my sanctuary. Picture me—basket in hand, wandering down the path, ready to enjoy a quiet meal nestled among its limbs.

There’s something freeing about climbing a tree, don’t you think? The moment my feet leave the ground, I feel my worries disappear, dissolving into the wind as I become childlike again—light, unburdened, and playful. But it’s more than that. From up high, I see the world differently. I let the wind sway me, yet I feel steady and grounded, held by the same steadfastness that has anchored the tree for decades. Trees remind us that even as life moves and shifts, we can stand firm in our roots.

The Original Tree Huggers

The act of tree hugging isn’t just about affection—it has a deep history. The Chipko Movement in India, for example, began as a nonviolent resistance where women physically embraced trees to prevent them from being cut down. These “original tree huggers” saw trees as protectors, healers, and irreplaceable members of the ecosystem. I can’t help but wonder—what if we all approached trees with that same reverence? What if we treated them as wise elders rather than just part of the scenery?

Hamilton tree climb

Lessons from an Arborist: The Wisdom in the Bark

During my time working with an arborist, I developed a new appreciation for trees—not just for their beauty but for their resilience. I learned to recognize them by their bark, running my fingers over rough ridges, smooth patches, and intricate patterns that tell stories of age and adaptation. Some trees heal themselves, sealing their wounds with sap, while others grow stronger after hardship. One of my favorite trees, featured on my hello page and above, stands in Hamilton. It’s broken, yet breathtaking—its beauty remains despite its wounds, or maybe because of them. So many people come to have their pictures taken with it, drawn to its quiet strength. It’s a reminder that even in imperfection, there is grace.

The Secret World Beneath the Forest Floor

What fascinates me most is what we don’t see—the vast, intricate network beneath the soil. Trees communicate through underground fungal networks, sharing nutrients, warnings, and support like an ancient web of whispers. The mother trees nourish the younger ones, passing wisdom down in a way that mirrors our own human connections. Science is only now beginning to catch up with what many indigenous traditions have known for centuries—trees are alive in ways we’re only beginning to understand.

Rooting Into Presence

Hugging a tree isn’t just about physical contact; it’s an act of presence. When I wrap my arms around a tree’s trunk, I feel myself sync with its rhythm. My breath slows. My thoughts quiet. I can hear the whispers of the wind through the leaves, the distant hum of life all around me. I am here, fully present, fully alive.

Maybe that’s why trees call to us when we seek peace. They don’t rush. They don’t force. They just are—standing firm, growing slowly, adapting effortlessly. And maybe, just maybe, they invite us to do the same.

So this week, I invite you to step outside and find a tree that speaks to you. Maybe you’ll climb its branches, sway with the wind, or simply rest against its trunk and listen. Whatever you do, let yourself be rooted in presence.

Have you ever had a special moment with a tree? I’d love to hear your stories. Drop them in the comments! 🌿🌳