The Tender Voice
Poetry Friday on a Wednesday
Friends,
I’m watching the sunrise as I write today. The sun’s rays are outlining a tree outside my window that is just beginning to produce and unfold new growth. Its leaves are chartreuse, not yet the rich green color of summer. The leaves look tender and fragile as they uncrumple and toss about in the wind. However fragile they appear, they are hardy enough to withstand a frost or two that has yet to come. The tree has heartwood to sustain it. I take the definitions of heartwood from a book called “Heartwood” by Barbara Becker.
heartwood1
1 the older harder nonliving central wood of the trees that is usually darker, denser, less permeable, and more durable than the surrounding sapwood (Merriam- Webster)
This week is a long walk for many, whether it is in the Jewish faith or the Christian faith. It is a time of deep remembrance of faith, history, ritual, and inner work. We prepare ourselves for new life, new growth — whatever that may be for each of us. In preparing or discerning new growth we often have to let go of something no longer needed so we can move on. I’ve noticed that leaves have a sheath that covers the bud called the “leaf primordium” that they shed to protect the tender new growth until the leaf pushes it off and the sheath falls to the ground. (I often find that annoying because they make a mess of my patio but today I see it in new light as I think about its function.)
Becker’s second and third definition are more spiritual:
2 a teaching by the Buddha comparing the layers of a tree — the twigs and leaves, outer bark, inner bark, sapwood — to the spiritual discoveries that may distract a seeker before they come to realize the unshakable deliverance of mind, or “heartwood” …
3 a reminder to embrace the inseparability of life and death, the growth rings and the heartwood… a message of wholeness (Becker)
Wholeness. When we awaken the tender voice, when we seek it, feel it, hear it. We can experience Wholeness.
I give you this to have you remember that those with boisterous voices do not carry us or hear us in our deep seeking. It is those who can listen to the wind and speak with a tender voice who carry the wisdom needed right now. There is a part of us, the heartwood, that has been carried for centuries by our ancestors that we need to listen to in times of uncertainty. These voices have endured many frosts and have stayed strong. There is also new growth that is tender and springs forth out of darkness and dormancy. The newness may look fragile. It may feel like chaos or turmoil while it is being organized into the beauty that unfolds. Don’t underestimate what tenderness can bring.
I invite you to mind the tender voice. It is deep inside of you waiting for you to be curious to what it has to offer.
Peace and grace to you,
Jace
When I am Among the Trees
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, ”Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, ”It's simple,” they say,
”and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
Mary Oliver
And the wholeness of life in a song that has been somewhat haunting me this week. A song about singing about what we see, using our voice, and how we incorporate all of life. (special thanks to The Lost Words Spell Songs for freeing my mind and soul this week.)
The Kingfisher…. “the little silver seeker”…
Becker, B. (2021). Heartwood: The Art of Living With the End in Mind. Flat Iron Books.