While flipping through the new Omega wellness catalog and daydreaming about a workshop called “The Art of Sexual Ecstasy: A Gentle Introduction to SkyDancing Tantra,” I came across a course that brought me to my knees.
“Tree Whispering: Harmonize With Global Transformations by Being With Trees.” For $300, students get to stand around in a circle basically fondling trees. Outside. In public.
As the copy explains, when touching trees, you not only feel bark (so true!), but also a “bio-energy of information and wonder.” You “learn permission-based Green Centrics (TM) holistic energy healing methods from integrative medicine, ancient wisdom and faerie folklore.”
Aah, faerie folklore, the progenitor of all kooky wellness workshops. I like how they throw in the “permission-based” Green Centrics, lest you think these tree huggers are taking trees against their will: “Mr. Tree, can I touch you in your no-no zone?”
I’m reminded of something Jeannette Walls, author of The Glass Castle, said at a lecture here in town on Friday. (For those of you who haven’t read it, The Glass Castle is a memoir about growing up in total poverty.) She was sharing her reaction when, many years ago, a wealthy friend explained to her the concept behind Outward Bounds, that organization in which people pay thousands of dollars for a week of roughing it, for a week of hardship, in the great outdoors. Jeannette laughed at the idea that anyone would pay money for such an experience when she herself had lived it; there was nothing glamorous or fun about foraging for food outside or sleeping in a shack with no heat or running water.
Tree Whispering seems a bit like Outward Bounds, in that both tap into people’s innate desire to commune with nature, but have forgotten how. So they break out the checkbook for the privilege of “tree whispering.” I’m behind on my faerie folklore, but it seems that if you want to become one with trees, take a walk in the park. Or plant a few saplings in the backyard. Because I’m pretty sure trees won’t, in fact, whisper back, no matter how much a weekend of whispering costs.
