Luther Allen

I say that writing is my spiritual practice. I say that I write poems to find meaning. As I grow older, this means slowing down, abandoning as much as possible conventional and traditional knowledge, and trying to see what’s really there. Exploring the world as mystery. This poem is about that process — the evolution of growing beyond cultural indoctrination, seeing trees (and nature) as objects, as the other, and then allowing myself to experience that un-knowing. I must emphasize that this is based on open-ended experience and unfiltered sensory perception. Being as open as possible and paying attention to my body and the energy that surrounds me. As you can surmise from the poem, it has taken me decades to get to this place. I don’t talk to trees and I don’t expect them to talk to me. I am not a “new age” person. I own a chainsaw; two, in fact. But there are times that I have experienced a deep unity with trees, with nature. It is exhilarating and terrifying and wondrous. It is a spiritual practice.