Despite the fact that this is
obviously a magnificent tree, there is nothing like the same treasure of myth
and folklore passed on to us, as we have received about our other major trees.
A meagre mention that the tree was sacred to Zeus and that the Greeks saw the
Beech as a symbol of prosperity. A short reference that ancient tribal people
like the Franks and the Achaeans consulted the Beech as an oracle. A scholarly
note that the Germanic tribes inscribed their early books on it. An official
line stating that it is the emblem of Denmark.
But there appears to be very little continued living tradition of lore (in the
British Isles or in my native country of the Netherlands), as there is for so
many other of our prominent trees, which tells us of the relationship country
people had with the Beech.
Even that classic tome of treelore
"The Golden bough" (A study in magic and religion by Sir James
George Frazer, 1922, of which I have an abridged version of a mere 714
pages!) has only three short references to the Beech.
The first tells us that the Beech, like other trees, was seen as an embodiment
of the Goddess of the wild woodlands, Diana. Frazer writes: ".... even in
the time of Pliny a noble Roman used thus to treat a beautiful beech-tree in the
sacred grove of Diana on the Alban hills. He embraced it, kissed it, he lay
under its shadow, he poured wine on its trunk. Apparently he took the tree for
the goddess."
The second reference reminds us that make a mistake if we picture ancient Italy
in historical times as a land with an unbroken forest of oaks: "Theophrastus
has left us a description of the woods of Latium as they were in the fourth
century before Christ. He says: "The land of the Latins is all moist. The
plains produce laurels, myrtles and wonderful beeches; for they fell trees of
such a size that a single stem suffices for the keel of a Tyrrhenian ship."
The third reference concerns the use of a tall, slim beech-tree as the centre
for the bonfire on the first Sunday in Lent, in the Eifel mountains. Such fires
were at one time common practice throughout Europe and are part of the early
Spring Festival of "The stirring of the seed", better known these days
as Imbolc, Candlemas and related to Valentine's Day. The fire symbolised the
active transformation from the 'death' of winter to the beginning of spring. The
seed was felt to be 'stirring', and the cracking of the seed (germination) was
encouraged with festivities and carnivals, also in the hope thereby to increase
fertility.
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So we know that the Beech played a
significant part in peoples lives. After all, it is the most common Central
European forest tree and relatively abundant locally all over Europe.
In spite of this the few bits of surviving lore passed on to us, which helps us
to know how people experienced the particular character of this tree, is thin
and often filled with a particular gloominess. We do not find such gloom
connected with many other trees.
Here is an example:
"In the south of England there
lived a holy hermit named St, Leonard whose hut was surrounded by a glade of
noble Beech trees. The saint loved the trees, but by day he could not sit under
their shady branches because of the vipers which swarmed about the roots, and by
night the songs of many nightingales disturbed his rest. So he prayed that both
the serpents and the birds might be taken away, and from that day no viper has
stung and no nightingale has warbled in the Hampshire forests."
This is an interesting tale. I feel
that it may hold a clue to the mystery why this useful, noble looking tree is
not engraved as deeply in the heart of folk-memory as it probably deserves to
be. The deeper meaning of the legend can be interpreted in at least two ways.
First of all it can be seen as a story of the spirit of the saintly Leonard.
The wood he lives in is his consciousness. Vipers or snakes symbolise the life
force in all its wonderful duality of life an death, good and evil, healing and
poison. "The 'vipers swarming about the roots" (Beech roots are often
exposed near the trunk and their wriggly patterns is reminiscent of 'a vipers
nest') gives us a feeling that that the life-force is rising and stirring, thus
making Leonard, the hermit, restless. As a saintly hermit in the patriarchal
tradition Leonard has to 'conquer' the snakes and learn to ignore the
whisperings of his base and intuitive instincts. He wants to reject what he
thinks is sinful flesh.
The warbling nightingales are his
unconscious thoughts, his flights of fancy and the singing dreams deep within
him that disturb his rest. Like so many holy patriarchal men, Leonard longs to
be 'not of this world', but rise above it to the heavenly realms of patriarchy.
As human beings, who have all experienced the sorrows and wounds that life
inflicts, we can have sympathy with this 'civilised' solution to the inbuilt
duality of life: rise above it, ignore it, be unattached, be pure spirit, deny
the flesh.
Alas, the philosophy behind it has proved a disaster for our planet. Modern
Western Christian culture is based on this alienation of Nature. It has made the
particular way we practice science possible. Astounding feats have been achieved
of which many people are justly proud, but at the same time our culture is a
devastating example of what happens, when we try to rise above and improve on
our 'base' instincts.
Many aspects of our culture resonate strongly to the legend of St. Leonard in
the Beech wood, who prayed for the wild creatures disturbing him to be removed
and has spiritual visions which ignore the ecology of the flesh and disrespect
matter.
The delicate balance of life is disturbed and we have become so insensitive,
that we have hardly noticed the pollution and upset we caused. It is only now,
at the turn of the millennium that sufficient people have begun to truly realise
that we are in the process of committing ecocide. And the holy man, who tried to
serve the God of creation has become an instrument of destruction and a hollow
man.
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Being in the still centre of the
wheel of life is of course a well known aim of many religious and mystical
practices. Like an axle in a wheel, this is the point where there is the least
movement and the greatest power. The idea is that, by centering in the very
heart of the vortex of life, the point where all the power originates, there is
a still point, which can serve as a bridge to different dimensions.
However, since this 'Zero-point' is paradoxically equivalent to infinite
possibilities (in other words: Everything or "All"), it requires a
state of being, which has left duality behind and is able to embrace the whole
of Creation.
The St. Leonard of our legend had not yet reached this advanced or 'enlightened'
state. He is rejecting half of Creation. Instead of resolving the duality of
life through a compassionate acceptance of the Here and Now and thus becoming
pure balance and harmony, St. Leonard rejects reality in favour of an abstract
pure spirituality.
His vision, prayer and dedication may have been powerful, but it had a
devastating and unbalancing effect on the ecology of Earth.
He had no more than half of the truth because he overlooked the fact that the
duality of life, the spirit and the flesh, black and white, good and evil, yin
and yang are the two inseparable faces of the same energy.
He experienced the vipers and nightingales as disorderly, dangerous and
disturbing and prayed for them to be taken away, rather than to become one with
them.
He could have made friends with the animals and tune into them. Invite them
welcoming into his world. He could have softly sung to the snakes and they would
have taught him the dance of the rhythm of life, of embracing and letting go,
and they would have become healing serpents, rather than poisonous one.
Similarly, if he had tuned in to the nightingales, they would have done their
job to relax him and fill him with inspiration from his deepest being during
restoring sleep.
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Another way in which we can
interpret the legend is as a story about the spirit of the Beech trees
themselves. People used to tell tales to describe the energies, which weave the
world. Nowadays this is called 'popular science', but the way in which the old
people used to do it is called 'Myths and legends'.
In comparison with human lives, energy patterns are immortal, and so it was that
major clusters and archetypal energy configurations were called Gods and
Goddesses. There were also many classes of other mythological creatures, such as
nymphs, muses, satyrs, centaurs and many others, who embody 'lesser' energies.
The tales of the character and deeds of the Gods gives a description of how
archetypal energies behave and interact with each other and with mortal beings
like ourselves. The myths comprise the whole range of sciences: physics,
history, psychology, natural history, ecology, and so on.
Close observation and familiarity
with the natural world also enabled mythmakers to recognise how some energy
patterns, expressing itself in the life force of a particular tree species, may
be similar or reminiscent of the energy sphere of a certain God/dess. In such
cases, the spirit of this tree is said to be sacred to this God/dess.
When Christianity gradually usurped pagan polytheism, the practice of
understanding natural forces through the passing on of stories, did not
disappear overnight. However, to make the stories acceptable to the Church, the
Gods and Goddesses (and other energies, including the tree spirits) were
replaced with a whole host of angels and saints.
What can we learn if we imagine St.
Leonard as the spirit of the Beech? Leonard is a man who wants to enlarge and
expand his mind by cutting out the interference of many of his base instincts
and intuitions. He does not want to live in happy communion with some of these
energies, but ennoble his consciousness (= the place he lives) by his own
strength in silence and tranquility.
This could be said to be a fairly accurate, metaphoric description of what
happens in a Beech wood. I don't know what moved St. Leonard, the historical
man, to adopt his spiritual hermit life style, but the Beech tends to drive out
other species, because of its huge shallow root systems, which spread sideward,
just below the soil. So Beeches tend to end up living as 'hermits' and just like
St. Leonard, the Beech does not dig too deep to grow its noble appearance.
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The Beech is one of Nature's
impressive strategies to bind a thin soil together and improve it in many ways.
The top layers of the soil are thoroughly aerated and every year a thick layer
of leaves, very rich in potash, are added through the fall of its huge amount of
foliage. Mrs. Grieve observes that Beech trees conserve the productive capacity
of the soil better than any other tree.
Maybe the original legend of St. Leonard (as opposed to the shrunk hand-me-down
version I have quoted) would have provided us with details of his life before he
became a hermit. Maybe the (spiritual) soil in which he was living, was in dire
need of improvement as well.
The combination of a vast,
horizontal spreading root system and the dense shade cast by heavy foliage,
makes it virtually impossible for any undergrowth to exist in an established
Beech wood. Consequently, the number of plants and animals species in such a
wood is fairly limited for a deciduous wood.
Before the leaves start to appear, early spring flowers such as Wood anemones
and Bluebells are able to grow when the sunlight and the rain can still
penetrate freely through the naked branches.
Another flower we may find in these woods is Bird's nest orchid, which needs no
light at all and feeds on dead organic matter. Fungi feeding on the leaf-litter
can be found as well.
The blossoming of St. Leonard's spirit creates an ecology, that predominantly
feeds on dead matter, which again adds to the metaphor. The heavenly
spirituality of the Christian hermit focuses on the life in the here-after, i.e
it feeds on death.
The main mammals in such a wood, would be creatures like wood-mice and squirrels
feeding on the nuts. The early storytellers may have compared such busy,
industrious creatures to the early Christians feeding on St. Leonard's wisdom.
The birds frequenting the Beech woods are mostly small. One of the slightly
larger species would be the intelligent Jay,
who is an expert seed-planter.
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