Many of my musings occur while I am saturated in the experience of my yard. I have always been a curious observer of the natural world and my passion for all things Earth has filtered into busy and loyal days tending my garden and plants, strengthening my green thumb (lots of trial and error) and feeling the sheer joy of immersing my self in the land that literally holds my home, my heart, my family, my healing, my God. I am born of a thought that suggests everything we need to know can be found in the laws of nature, nature as soul. I sit a humble witness to the magnificence and tap into to the power that governs such mystical order, rich with spirit and metaphor; I watch and listen to silent teachers all around.
I have lived in this house for over a decade and each year I have seen the cycle of my seminally ancient and fragile China Berry tree rotate from barren branches to lush purple canopies of shade. It has withstood at least 100 years of monsoons and intense desert heat. It has provided home to owl, hawk, cat, lizard, arachnid and a swell of critters unseen. It has offered itself to rope and tire swings and afternoon story time, forts and festive lights, Sunday dinners and reprieve for the spinach that grew beneath its thick and robust branches. Dear China Berry, has been a mother for my boys in her own giving way and she was a quiet companion and medicine for me as I rested beneath her bows. I felt she was watching over me, I’d soak up her strength and find my grounding again. She has been with us through great difficulty and transformation, but now she is dying and I must watch her whither and dry and crumble, and together we weep, loss of any kind is tragic. Her delicate branches fall to the ground and I gather them for the sacred fire. It is her time for transformation. It is no wonder a giant full-bellied hawk visits her often at dusk, those rapture wings will usher her tree soul to the heavens.
Not but 15 feet to the South, I have been watching a clever little sprout emerge unexpectedly from an herb garden I thought was lost to Arizona’s inferno-esk summer. In its 
early stages, I wasn’t sure what it was and in my dedicated curiosity I let it root and find its way. As it has unfolded into a vibrant and lively creature with tendrils of green barbwire and dense stalk it appeared to be just a weed, but I knew it to be more. After consultation with fellow plant people I discovered it to be a Puncture Vine, aka Goats Head. Medicinally, Goats Head is used to clean and heal the kidneys. Interestingly enough, I am in great need of kidney support. I do not find this a coincidence but rather a gift. As I listen to nature, she listens to me and offers me the medicine I need. While grandmother tree is leaving us, new roots from the unseen are bringing me healing support.
Remember, this is all a metaphor.
When I was wresting with cancer, I sat with death often trying to make sense of its power. There is no reasoning or formula determining when, or under what circumstances, it will enter our lives. I faced some of the biggest, most existential questions of my life. My faith, security, and relationships were challenged and my idea of myself was challenged. Looking at death, I came to understand and love myself more. I came to understand and accept the way of life more. I thought that the cancer was going to kill me, but I learned that it was killing the pain and residual trauma that was keeping me from truly living. With cancer, enormous parts of my self died and enormous parts of my self were reborn. Just like the China Berry, withering to bare bark in autumn, only to born again in Spring.
Unfortunately, this is not the case with all people, or all trees. Some of the most beautiful beings leave us too soon. No sense to it. Death is surrounding us as much as life. They are hand in hand, soul partners in the cycle of life.
This is how it works in nature. One thing, once serving us, dies and creates the space for something new and more adapted, more appropriate for our next era of living. In the last three years (probably the duration Great China Berry has been ill), death has met the cancer cells in my body and carried them away. Death entered a difficult relationship and brought to end an intense era. Death marked its scar in a career that was breeding disease. Death has threatened loved ones only to encourage them to live fuller lives. Death has met many people on this plane of existence and ascended them to other realms. Many friends and many clients are in the wake of death experiencing the earth shattering madness of loss and yet, somehow, as the Earth crumbles it loosens the soil and makes fertile ground for life to prevail.
If you are experiencing loss of any kind, I invite you to have a perspective that finds freedom and ease through understanding the power of nature. Create meaning and remembrance in a sacred manner and let Wisdom support you and your loved ones. Practice ceremony for those who have passed, carry on their legacy through deliberate ritual and purposeful presence. If a relationship or career has come to an end, have faith and curiosity for new beginnings. If you are ill, let courage invite contemplation, explore the shadows and become more self-realized.
In our grief and loss we can either attach to a barren tree that can no longer produce or we can align our attention to the new medicine in the South that brings us back to life.
Blessings, Namaste, Aho
Robin Afinowich
