One of the trees was an apple tree, a James Grieve, which Julia told me gave an excellent yield of fruit most years. She spoke proudly of this tree, who stood upright and tall. Almost immediately, though, I observed how the other three trees, two of which were silver birch, were leaning away from the apple tree, almost as if they would run away had they the legs to carry them.
As Julia talked on about the apple tree, singing his praises, I walked around the tree and was instantly aware of a most overwhelming, not to mention unpleasant, feeling of superiority coming from him, as if he were looking down on me - even though he wasn’t really that tall. I had never quite experienced this in a tree before, although I recalled many instances when my great-grandfather had said that trees were in danger of becoming as self-centred and as arrogant as some human beings if they were not treated right. They could also become magically dangerous, when they were the victims of sorcerers, something I will talk about in a later chapter of this book. Jack Lee had talked of trees he had encountered in his youth, particularly in large and extremely well-kept gardens where they were given far too much attention and where far too much was expected of them. He always lamented that the older he became, the more the trees were becoming what our ancestor referred to as ‘incurably individualized’ - and that was how the ancestor usually described human beings!
On that morning I circled the James Grieve slowly, while my friend talked about him. I knew then, as I fixed my gaze on the tree, that he knew what I was thinking. I felt his immediate expectation of my adoration: in fact, I knew that he was accustomed to being worshipped with no less attention than one would lavish on a spoilt child, but I was also aware of his underlying confusion. This was not a tree as the old ones would have described a tree in ancient days. Old gypsies spoke highly of trees, but if I closed my eyes and used my senses alone, the tree I was with now felt not so much a tree as a human being.
I said nothing to Julia, but observed her over the next few days as she frequently went down the garden to talk to the James Grieve, bothering little about the other three trees who were so obviously having a hard time of it that they were straining to lean as far away as they could go. When I spent some time with them they pretended to be indifferent, but were in an obvious agony. Eventually they confided that they hated the James Grieve because he not only got all the attention from my friend but also assumed a superiority, which was quite difficult for them to tolerate, and it was a most unpleasant situation for all four of them to be in. Trees are usually friends with one another when they live side by side, but these were distinct enemies and I recalled my great-grandfather telling me how difficult it was for trees who felt uncomfortable or threatened, for trees could not run. They simply had to sit out a situation, no matter what the outcome was.
The picture I was receiving was quite different from the one Julia was busy painting of her garden. A person with strong feelings for trees, she enjoyed encouraging people to talk to her trees and to go out into the garden to hug them; consequently, the feeling many of her visitors were getting from the trees wasn’t the feeling I was getting. I watched many people going into her garden and spending time with the trees, but spending most time with the James Grieve, as he greedily fed off their attentions.
A great battle was raging in this otherwise peaceful and picturesque garden, the like of which I had never heard, or experienced, before. I found myself with a quite difficult situation on my hands. After some two or three weeks of watching Julia feeding and petting the apple tree, I could stand it no more and thought that before I said anything to her I would first confront the tree myself, so that I might begin dealing with the situation on a more magical level. I did this while my friend was out shopping one day.
On the face of it the James Grieve was adamant that everything was in order. So then I put my hand on his skin - the Romani word for tree bark is mortsi, or ‘skin’, and my elders always told me that if you remember to think of the bark of a tree as being as sensitive as human skin, you will understand how trees feel when you touch them.
‘I know what you’re up to,’ I told the tree firmly. ‘I know you’re feeding off Julia’s attentions and giving these other trees a hard time. I know what she’s doing to you and how hard it must be.’
I was angry. I couldn’t help feeling angry. There was so much anger flowing between all these trees and my own didn’t help, but to watch this one tree acting like a spoilt child and the other three living their lives in misery was as much as I could bear. But then I began to feel the apple tree’s own confusion and despair because I had spoken to him in that way. So far he had been living in a cosseted world and having someone challenge him was something of a shock. He also recognized that I was a Romani Chovihano and this hit him hard.
But then I reeled backward in shock as a loud piping voice spoke just as angrily to me in return. It was a little fairy woman, about a foot high, looking up at me with fierce dark eyes, her hands on her hips. She wore old-fashioned clothes with dark reds, blues and blacks prevailing, and in her little battered hat she looked a little like a miniature witch. She seemed almost as fierce as my own grandmother could be when riled.
‘Julia!’ she sneered, in a singsong voice. ‘Julia! All we ever hear is Julia! Are you going to go on about Julia too? Do you know what this tree is called?’
I quickly shook my head. I hadn’t expected a member of the Bitee Fokee to appear like this and was immediately respectful - and naturally fearful - as I’d been taught to be. ‘No,’ I tried to say, gulping nervously, and as the fairy stared at me she seemed to have the power of a woman who could easily have been some six feet tall.
She looked up at the James Grieve, towering above her. ‘Have a guess.’
I hoped she wasn’t going to play games with me, as all the Bitee Fokee could if you had something special to learn - as I obviously did. I begged her forgiveness and told her I couldn’t guess his name in a million years.
‘His name’s Julia,’ she said, again with a sneer on her tiny face, and I stared at her for some seconds in disbelief. I might have laughed had the situation not been so serious. I certainly wanted to laugh, as the little woman went on to tell me that all four trees bordering the lawn were also called Julia.
‘But why?’ I asked, thoroughly confused by this time. She went on to explain something which the ancestor was later to emphasize, something very important in Romani lore - that if certain creatures on Earth are given names, they assume too much of a personal identity, which isn’t always good for them, particularly if these names are permanent, as they then become far too egocentric for their own good. The trees were called Julia, the little woman said, the house was called Julia and in fact everything else round about had assumed the name, because Julia had long been an extremely important spirit in the area and was actually sucking the natural life out of all the things she came into contact with, ultimately - within nature’s language - turning them all into Julias! The trees, the little woman said, understood Julia to be something special; she had almost become a goddess!
As the little woman looked at me I knew instantly that were I to stay around the place for very long I too would be in danger of becoming Julia. The whole thing seemed to have escalated beyond control. I knew that the trees could not be blamed for any of this, for they lived on an entirely different plane, mentally, and their comprehension of names and individualization was clearly very different from ours.
All this also reminded me of a story my great-grandfather had passed on about the way we human beings could so easily adulterate elements of nature by infecting them with our own patterns of behaviour. It was all a lesson. If we didn’t live by the borrowing principle and by understanding that we were sharing the Earth, we would be living in a very egocentric and lonely world indeed, a world which was individualized to an extreme, both limited and limiting. Hadn’t this already happened in our human society?
I felt extremely sorry for the little woman as she sat down at the base of the
tree with her hands squashed in her cheeks and a pout on her small face. It was always difficult for the Bitee Fokee, sandwiched as they were between the human world and the natural world, and often trying so hard to encourage those two worlds to join together in harmony. But I also felt sorry for the James Grieve, who was now feeling rather ashamed. Trees, like animals, are quick to feel shame when they feel they have done something wrong. It wasn’t, after all, his fault that everything had developed like this. I felt saddened that I was learning this valuable lesson at the expense of these ancient beings.
The little fairy woman knew who and what I was and she therefore saw fit to remind me that it was my duty to learn this lesson and also to do something about this situation. I promised her I would.
At the next convenient moment I cautiously broached the subject with Julia. She knew that I had been trained as a Chovihano in the traditional way, although neither of us had told many who were around us at the time, yet initially it was hard for her to comprehend my experience; she could not quite believe that trees could become so like human beings. The ‘individualizing’ of our environment is, in its animistic sense, a science that relates more to the Otherworld than the physical world; it is, however, something we will need to understand more in the future if we are at all to understand the natural world around us and the way it is inclined to function. In this case Julia and I eventually carried out some therapeutic work on the trees, and of course on Julia herself. The aim was to, simply, literally, heal the garden and the environment of its Julia!
It has always been the Romani way to seek permission before making contact with any aspect of the natural world. I sometimes wonder whether we ought to be hugging trees, as some people like to do without even asking permission! After all, would we do this to a complete stranger in the street? Checking that our actions are not an imposition is the first rule in successful communication with all other species - and indeed each other - but this is particularly true of trees.
As well as learning about the difficulties some trees can experience when under the influence of human beings, I have also had many opportunities to learn about the difficulties human beings can experience when under the influence of trees.
Trees’ influence on human beings would indeed have been far more common in earlier days when people in many cultures looked to trees to teach them. These were days when all gypsy Chovihanos deliberately put themselves in the care of trees when wanting to learn the Earth’s secrets.
As a teenager I began to feel the strength of the trees that lived about me in my new environment, whether I walked about in the wood near my home or whether I was walking down one of the tree-lined streets, which led to my home. I often experienced what I can only describe as a ‘presence’, as if the trees were fully aware of my existence because of some predestined attachment we had to each other. This awareness became so strong when I was a young adult that I soon began giving trees a wide berth when I walked past them. They could whisper to you and either guide you or misguide you, and if the moon were full, you might be caught off your guard and might just walk home the wrong way. When returning from a night out, neighbours might see me zigzagging down the centre of our road as I attempted to pass trees cautiously - on the face of it I must have appeared to be intoxicated!
On my way I often heard the trees whispering, passing on some message - or perhaps even a joke - to each other in their own language, which I often imagined went like this: ‘Look at him! Doesn’t he look funny? He’s young; he hasn’t learned anything yet, but he has special powers. What will he do with those powers? Will he be courageous enough to learn our ancient secrets?’
You might be very easily influenced by trees’ whisperings, especially by those trees who lost their leaves in winter, for they were the ones who could not always be trusted. This was considered to be the mischievous side of a tree’s nature. My grandmother told me that her elders had impressed upon her how gypsies in the old days had sometimes become lost in forests, particularly when spells were ‘in the air’, as she put it. She told me that on becoming lost, some gypsies would remove their clothes and put them on again inside out, because while you were lost you were vulnerable and you would need to fool any evil spirits who might take advantage of your delicate situation. The trees might just tell all kinds of spirits about your weaknesses if they didn’t like you. To this day I still turn some of my clothes inside out, not only when I feel lost but also when I feel low, and I certainly use this old custom when I conduct a session with someone as a Chovihano. I did this on the very first occasion I was invited into a Christian church to sample a service! It can be particularly beneficial sometimes to reverse one’s clothing during the phase of the old moon or at the height of a full moon. Today some of us may be loath to perceive negativity as an evil spirit, but negative experiences do nevertheless occur at these delicate times. If you examine your calendar you may be able to trace your ‘highs’ and ‘lows’ and how they may just coincide with significant phases of the moon.
It is also wise to take care when you are out with trees. My grandmother explained that they were powerful beings, far more powerful than humans, and you therefore had to take them seriously, because if they wanted to teach you something, their teaching would be of the highest quality - which meant that it might sometimes hurt! This is why if you think in the old way you will always think twice about walking up to hug a tree, for it is a strong, powerful and extremely ancient spirit you are dealing with, one that should never be taken lightly.
I have found the best way to look upon trees is to see them rather as you might see a dog - a dog can roll over and be played with, but is also capable of savaging you. I often advise people to think like this when approaching trees. Use the golden rule: approach with a reasonable amount of caution, and also the greatest respect, and you will in turn receive the best a tree can give you, and you can probably tell that tree all your problems and hug away to your heart’s content.
Trees may seem passive, and so they are much of the time, for they are generally very wise and good-natured creatures, but there is a deep and unfathomable, and sometimes also a quite playful side to their nature, which we humans don’t understand, and we should always be assured that most trees will know far more about us than we will ever know about them. Remember that they are not just thousands but millions of years ahead of us in time, and indeed experience.
I have heard trees whispering in many ways. I have heard them laughing, crying, and also screaming when they are torn down. If you know a tree is to be felled, then it is a good idea to go and talk to that tree, to explain what is happening and why. The ancestor says there is a ‘Kingdom of Trees’ where all trees go when they die, which is reassuring. The tragedy occurs though when we remain uncaring of the fact that trees have spirits. When condemned trees are marked on their trunks for the chop, these ancient creatures in all their innocence often only see the markings as decoration, for in earlier times when trees were revered they were hung with rags, adorned with seasonal ornaments and left offerings. Some of them still think in this simple ancient way today and will not always understand what is happening - and why humans can be so cruel. So it is a good idea to tell them what is going on and to console them. That is the least that we humans can do if a tree’s end is on its way. Don’t forget to add that it isn’t your fault, and that you are well and truly on the tree’s side.
Some humans will undoubtedly laugh at you if you think like this, but Romani gypsies have thought like this for many hundreds of years. They feel it deeply when woodland is destroyed, for it is the destruction of their very foundation and a great crime committed against Grandmother Earth.
Needless to add, the more you develop a rapport with trees, the more you will grow to love and understand them for their own sakes. It is a sad truth that many humans only see trees as unthinking, unfeeling objects, as a backdrop, or as a reflection of what they perceive nature to be.
I heard the trees whispering to me in t
he red-gold wood when I spent that special night there and I have often listened to their whisperings on quiet mornings when I have been day-dreaming, perhaps just before getting up or having an early-morning cup of coffee. Many people will never have heard this because in modern times there is far too much noise. The whispering grows out of a deep rich silence, within which, in earlier times, Romani gypsies heard nature singing - and trees, along with the Bitee Fokee and other Otherworldly beings, always had plenty to sing about!
There have been a few trees in my life who have been very special to me and who have provided a gateway to much that I have needed to learn. These trees have also become friends, and although all of them have been deciduous and therefore beings who might reveal my innermost secrets, I have been able to trust them implicitly and to call upon them for advice whenever I have needed it.
One of these trees has been an oak, whom I affectionately called Puro Moosh, or ‘Old Man’. He lives by the river and was always a gentle, wise and kind influence. I used to think that in human form he would have been a sweet old man with a long white beard who might enjoy simple home comforts. He has guided me through many experiences and I never walked past him without sitting with him awhile on any walks I took by the river. When any of my friends visited him they would often come away with a piece of his bark or perhaps one of his fallen leaves. These are given voluntarily, as all trees will give something of themselves to you if they are treated with respect and provided it is an appropriate time in your life for receiving something.
Another adviser and trusted friend was ‘Linden’, a silver lime tree who was in the garden of a house I used to live in. I learned a great deal from the ancient spirit within this tree. The beautiful heart-shaped leaves were a joy to see whenever Linden came into leaf every spring and the honey scent of his flowers in August filled the air with sweetness. My friends and I often conducted sessions beneath his beautiful umbrella boughs where we communicated with ancestors and where, quite often, Linden brought out of us many thoughts and emotions, which these trees are famous for doing. In earlier times it was common to hold counsel meetings beneath important trees such as the oak or the linden tree. It was considered that you would inevitably tell the truth if having important meetings beneath trees. You protect yourself if touching an oak for luck, which many have done in the past, some even running a good distance in earlier times if there was no oak nearby. Trees play so little a part in our lives now compared to what they once would have done.
We Borrow the Earth: An Intimate Portrait of the Gypsy Folk Tradition and Culture Page 12
