Space Without Distance

Avon Road, in Rochester, Michigan, dead-ends into Adams RoadJust southeast of Meadow Brook Music FestivalIt’s a road my family traveled often on our way homeAnd for about a 9 month period when I was in my early teensI had a recurrent experience with a stunning wisteria treeWhich sat in a yard a few houses east of the lightIf we were the 7th or 8th car in line, I could view this tree out the passenger windowAnd when I didThe tree played with meIt was a specific exchangeI consider it the most spiritual experience of my lifeAnd I’ve tried to reconnect to this tree specificallyAnd to any part of nature in general in the same wayBut, no diceWhat happened, time and again, when all the conditions were rightIs that as I gazed upon the treeI felt her gazing back at meThe space between the tree and me remained the sameBut the distance collapsed entirelyI could go back and forth between regular gazingAnd this kind of communionAnd the tree seemed amused that I would do thatAnd, as weird as this soundsThe tree acted as a kind of portalIn that, when I was in the orientation of communionI felt like I could understand the whole world through herShe was the focal pointThrough which everything was more intimate than what I normally experiencedIt would last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes.These two states were visually distinctLike when you look exclusively through your right eye, and then through your leftAnd it even had a physical sensation - subtle but pervasiveIt was absolutely fascinating and truly fun.I loved it when our ride home included Avon RoadThough it was still dependent on being stopped for the lightThis was not something that could be achieved in a drive-by.Genuinely curious if this was something others experienced, I mentioned it to someone I respectedWho suggested it sounded occult, and I was young, and it was dangerous and probably not good I still regret heeding that adviceBecause no amount of will has been able to recreate the sensations and perceptual shift that tree offeredAnd, here, most of my life later, I recognize that kind of communionAs my highest aspirationJack Kornfield has a bookAfter the Ecstasy, The LaundryDetailing the longing that often takes placeIn the aftermath of a profound spiritual experienceI’ve found that book very helpful, and am going to pull it out and read it againBut what is alive for me today as I reminisce about that giftIs the total shift in perception that tree afforded meAnd the world beyond it that became palpableIt was absolutely heavenlyAnd it was right there, on Avon RoadOccasionally I argue with letters, commune with trees, and question reality. Subscribe if that sounds like your kind of thing. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit fallingtenderly.substack.com