There is a little poem which says something like this: "I am nearer God's heart in a garden than any place else on earth"; and this is literally true, for when one learns to really commune with nature he brings himself into at-one-ment or attunement with God. For nature is not only God's handiwork; nature is God's manifestation.
Trees are among the most wonderful of all God's creations. Joyce Kilmer in his beautiful poem on trees says: "Poems are made by fools like me, but only God can make a tree." Such are the thoughts inspired in meditation on the trees that grow in the garden at Madonna Crest.
Near the entrance gate stand two lovely little white birch trees. They extend their leafy arms in loving welcome to everyone who enters the gate, and they pour showers of blessings upon each de parting guest. These trees, therefore, typify the spirit of blessing. Now trees contain much more than we see with physical vision. When we turn to study the tree with inner sight, we view an entirely new process of life. for each tree is the home world of the group of nature spirits that we designate as fairies. These little beings pour renewed life currents into the roots of the trees. They reach in and remold the contour of trunk and limbs. They build and color leaves and blossoms. The little beings that inhabit these birch trees are robed in the most exquisite delicate green, and they flash in and out in their varied activities emanating a soft silver-like mist.
About the house stand the tall stately cypress trees. They ex tend their leafy arms all about the house in protection — protection not only against storm and stress of winter winds, but also against negative or destructive astral currents. The minute beings inhabit ing these trees are very solemn and serious in demeanor as they go about their work. They seem to reflect all the stately gravity and mystery of the ancient trees which trace their ancestry back to the days of Lemuria and Atlantis. Ruled by Saturn, they have the Saturnian seriousness. These trees typify the spirit of protection.
Near the pool stands a lovely old crooked sycamore. This tree, no doubt, was once tall and straight in the early days when Indians roamed these hills unmolested; but now it is bent and bowed by the storm and strain of winds of innumerable winters, yet it still remains unmoved and defiant. It typifies, therefore, the spirit of courage and fearlessness. Ofttimes when the problems of life press sorely against me, I like to turn in communion to this lovely old tree, and I always leave it with renewed courage. All of the little beings that live in this fairy garden seem to find in this old tree their best beloved rendezvous. It is here that they gather in the nights of the Full Moon and in the nights of the four Sacred Seasons, when earth's vibrations are particularly high. They appear to reflect these vi brating currents in an ecstasy of play. They run and dance and sing and play up and down this crooked old trunk until it becomes a sort of fairyland roller coaster. They dance and scramble back and forth, sometimes five and six upon a single leaf, and approach so near the edge of the leaf that I hold my breath, expecting to see them fall. But verily, they float out into space much as a spider does when it spins its web, as if attached to an invisible filament.
And on beyond is the lovely jaqueranda tree. This tree typifies the spirit of beauty. It is here that I come to do my creative work, for on the wings of beauty we may learn to commune with realms of highest truth. As Keats has said, "Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty, this is all ye know and all ye need to know." The little beings that inhabit this tree are so delicate and tenuous of outline that their forms are scarcely discernible as they move in and out among the lacy foliage or hang from the dainty purple petals of the lovely blossoms. Their bodies seem to be wholly formed of a soft, incandescent light.
Then there are the citrus trees — the orange, the lemon, grape fruit and lime — with their exquisite breath, subtle, stimulating and sweet to the senses. These typify the spirit of memory, the memory of our beloved ones who have passed to the other side. Maeterlinck says that whenever we think of our beloved dead they immediately respond to our thoughts and so, too, think of us; and it is across this bridge of memory that we may learn to commune with them if we will.
There are other fruit trees — the apple, the nectarine, and the peach. These typify the spirit of faithfulness and constancy, for it makes no difference how bare and forbidding their branches may appear in the long months of winter. we know that inevitably with the first warm breath of spring they will don their dainty robes of white and delicate pink. The little beings that live and work with the blossoms of these trees are robed in their corresponding hues. For example, a fairy working on the white petals of an apple blos som is clothed in the same luminous white as the blossom, while one working upon the dainty pink of the peach tree wears robes of the same delicate pink. And where we see a variegated blossom it is being worked upon by two little sprites, one white clad and the other pink. Although they seem to work in the closest proximity one to another, there never seems to be the slightest friction or dis cord. All their work seems to be performed in extreme joy and perfect harmony. And when the blossom is completed these little beings appear to hover momentarily above it, as though bestowing a blessing upon their small creation — and that is a lesson which we humans might well learn from the fairy folk. to bless and praise every completed task before we release it to the world.
Farther on stands the graceful pepper tree, a green fountain dripping delicate lea1ves. This tree typifies the spirit of prayer. We all know that we are taught to pray for our beloved dead, but per haps we do not ealize that they are taught to pray for us and that our prayers ascending from earth to heaven, meeting their prayers descending from heaven to earth, form a luminous bridge whereon Angels cross to spread their love and benedictions upon this earth. Upon nights such as that of the Full Moon and the nights of the Sacred Seasons, the spiritual vibrations reach their apex and luminous angelic beings descending to earth mingle with the fairy kingdom; for the Angels minister not to man alone but to the fairy beings also in their work of beautifying nature.
And lastly there stands the stately deodar, symbol of the spirit of hope, for this is our Christmas tree. All the year long it lifts its branches in anticipation of the time when it will stand illuminated in honor of the Christ Child. And when the Holy Season approaches, and a great golden star of hope is placed upon its topmost spire, a radiance enfolds this tree, extending down to its very roots and reaching out in all directions. This is the glory light that never lay on land or sea of which the poet has spoken; and it is in this effulgent glow that the little fairy beings come and kneel, circle upon circle, and row upon row, beneath the great branches of the illumined tree; for it appears that they, too, do homage to the great Lord of Love and Light whose glory is now enfolding the earth. And as these little beings kneel in reverence and adoration beneath this tree, high above in the shining etheric mists may be heard the sublime chorale of angelic hosts chanted softly and tenderly over and over again: "Peace on earth and good will among men."
— Corinne Heline
