It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied to a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.
Standing alone on a mountain top, it is easy to realize that whatever special nests we make–leaves and moss like the marmots and birds, or tents of piled stone–we all dwell in a house of one room…
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.
The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another.
We cannot live for ourselves alone. Our lives are connected by a thousand invisible threads, and along these sympathetic fibers our actions run as causes and return to us as results.
I believe in the cosmos. All of us are linked to the cosmos. Look at the sun: If there is no sun, then we cannot exist. So nature is my god. To me, nature is sacred; trees are my temples and forests are my cathedrals.
My brain is only a receiver. In the Universe there is a core from which we obtain knowledge, strength, and inspiration. I have not yet penetrated into the secrets of this core, but I know that it exists.
Standing in a woods, or even by a tree in a park, you can sense a complex of interlinking roots underground. Here’s a quotation from Jon Lieff, M.D., that speaks to the ways in which trees and plants communicate: