by Arianna Knapp
Deirdre held up a tent stake wrapped in white cord and said, “Who will hold a strand for the Trees? The Green Ones among us?” It was May of 2017 and we were at the Community Web Ritual. I turned to Dag’r, looked in his eyes and said “I have to go.” Then I ran across the circle and sensed a blur of floppy sun hats, sunburned shoulders, and giant parasols as I took the stake from Deirdre’s hands.
As I held the stake, tied to the strand, connected to the Maypole being woven with the songs and energy of my friends, family, and community, there was a simple “knowing.” I had taken the first step on a journey and I had no idea why, or where it would lead.
In the weeks and months that followed the pledge faded in and out of focus. What did it mean to “hold a strand”? In the Fall of 2017, I attended my first Twilight Covening and then I stepped into the Anamanta journey and I realized a growing drive to be deeper among the beings of the land. I opened to the trees, I gave space in my meditation for green ones, and it brought peace.
While enjoying a rambling mid-Winter drive, Dag’r and I discovered a homestead among the hemlocks, and so we moved. As we introduced ourselves to the land and beings of the land, it was the green ones who taught us, and they continue every day. Open to the wind rolling down the hill, echoing the sounds of waves crashing to the land; open to the creak and groan of Summer breezes, the crack and snap of the coldest clearest night as the trees keep watch.
As planning for the next Rites of Spring and Village Builders gathering started, there was Deirdre looking at a sea of faces and said “Does anyone feel called to lead the Green Ones Grove?” My hand shot in the air and I found a new way to hold that strand for my community.
This moment, like that sunny day on the ritual field, is remarkable because I was not making a choice to volunteer. I was not “going to the next level.” I was not acting on information from my methodical, logical, well-planned brain. I simply knew that I would do it, and it was right.
There was a pandemic. We stayed home among the Hemlocks. After weeks had passed and it was clear that normalcy was going to be a ways off, I began to hang out with the trees. The Azalia outside my bedroom door is my confidant. The crabapple with the birdfeeder is a friend. The Hemlocks are my elders, my ancestors, and my guides. The green ones of our land are the Tall Lords and Ladies, and when the wind blows they dance.
As the World opened back up and we gathered again, my shape had changed. I am stronger now, yet more willing to bend. I can see the many shades of the long horizon and I choose to watch the light shift instead of chasing the Sun. My roots are not holding me back, they feed me.
Being in people-centric spaces has become a chore. When I must spend time in concrete covered lands, I seek the green ones who may be found in planters, on desk tops, or stoically anchoring sidewalks. Breathe with and touch the tree, hug the tree, open to the experience of the tree.
Last Fall I was appointed the official Tree Warden of Chester, Vermont. This is one among other political roles I fill, but it brings me deep joy. In this capacity, I have now spearheaded a grant process that has garnered funds to replant trees on a riverbank prone to flooding, and to begin to return shade trees to our Main Street corridor.
I took a strand and pledged to hold it without knowing what it could mean. It has changed me.
-Arianna Knapp
EarthSpirit Board of Directors
photographs © Arianna Knapp