These alive experiences are what I call a vibrant moment. We all deserve to have as many vibrant moments as possible in our daily lives instead of anxiety, depression and mundane, ordinary experiences.

Trees really do love you, care for you and give you life. You can feel the energy of trees if you slow down and notice them. When you feel your connection to trees, you are feeling the reality of the vibrating energy that exists around you at all times.

In terms of the view of the ocean? I had one such experience and I cannot explain it. However, from what I know it could fall under the category of out of the body experiences. Read Jenna Catherine’s explanation, in my free holistic psychology library: http://www.drjeanette.com/outofbody.html She is author of Conversing with the Future and knows much more than I about out of the body experiences.

How can I tell you about that day? I was so grateful to be alive, deliriously happy that I was no longer in any pain. Air tasted glorious, the colors pulsed with energy. I felt soft and open, absolutely new. My walk was a shuffle, but I was moving under my own power and it felt AWESOME. With the concentration and delight of a toddler, I wobbled my way across the great lawn, towards the yew. Now, I grew up in New York, so my normal walk is fast and head down - the fastest way to get me from point A to point B. This time, my healing body slowed me down so I could smell the grass and the waking earth. I felt so good that I found myself ‘talking’ to the yew. ‘It’s taking me awhile, but I’m coming.’

Imagine my surprise to ‘hear’ a reply! ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Not words, as much as understanding. I felt the response in something deeper than language. We don’t have words for this, Doris. At least I don’t have words to accurately describe it. So I’ll tell you what I understood. The tree was amused. Amused at my surprise, and patiently, deeply waiting for my understanding. I didn’t understand, but after my week in the hospital I was feeling, not thinking, and let it go. I let myself go, not worrying about the how and the why and only breathing in the moment.

By the time I got to the base of the yew, I was tired. It was the most exercise my body had had in over a week and I was toast. But it was a happy kind of exhaustion and my smile was broad as my head fell back to watch the branches sway in the breeze. Blue skies, green fragrant branches and the sun warmed bark of the tree. Again, mentally…almost reflexively, I asked permission of the yew to sit at its base and rest my back against the warm bark. No words, but what I felt was a generous acceptance and I slowly lowered myself to the ground. Butt between the roots and back to the bark, the sensation was instant and blindingly intense: in a fraction of time I felt the roots in the ground and the branches in the sky. They were my arms and my legs, and I SAW the ocean from the top of the tree. Doris, I saw the ocean from a place on the grounds where the ocean…isn’t…visible. By the time the surprise registered with me, the moment was gone. How can I describe it? If a tornado were a creative, rather than a destructive force, this was a tornado that blessed me with an entirely new vision of the possible.

I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Impossible. The logical side of my brain just didn’t have to tools to decipher my experience. So, I let it go and just basked in the sun. The yew reverted to what it had always been: a handsome, fragrant ancient tree in the middle of a Great Lawn. When I felt rested enough, curiosity got the best of me. I had to see if the ocean was really on the other side of the Great Lawn, beyond the castle. I struggled to my feet and spread my hand against the bark of the tree, a silent prayer of thanks in my heart. I didn’t feel anything but my own gratitude. The tree was silent once again. I began the trek towards the castle.

It took me some time, but when I rounded the castle I had an unobstructed view of the Irish Sea. And not just any view but the view - exactly what I had ’seen’ when I was sitting at the base of the tree.

The laughter that bubbled up my chest was such a release. I knew with a certainty beyond logic or science that I had been given an incredible gift by that yew. It’s a sacred gift I still treasure in ways large and small. Among other things, it helps me to remember to measure time in breaths and not by a clock.

Thanks for the ‘reminder’!