Sun in the Cedar

Cedar is the Tree of Life among the Salish. The spirit of Cedar is entwined with the people. Longhouses which protected against Pacific storms, planks, bowls and fabric all came from Cedar. Tsetseka masks were carved and worn by story-tellers as part of the drama of the winter dance. Totems with wise eyes reminded and taught the history of a people.

Cedar has brought me many lessons and gifts. Here is one:

When I was a young girl living on a Salish reservation, a carver began to “sing” a Cedar into a canoe in the woods behind our house. Everyday I would rush home from school, enter the forest and perch on the stump, watching, listening.

The whole forest reverberated, echoed with the ringing of the adze in rhythm with the deep ai-yai-ai-ya of the chant. The log rested between two supports. Over days it was trimmed and barked, then chips of outer wood began to fly. The shape of a canoe began to emerge. Thud-thum…mm..mm

I crouched on my trunk mesmerized. The rain and drizzle did not deter. We met every afternoon.
We did not speak.

After many days, the carver turned and looked at me, “Why are you here?” he demanded.

“Listening. I am waiting to see,” I answered.

“I am making a canoe,” said he.

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

He roared with laughter at this silly little sky-eyed girl.

No matter.
My child-mind heard this Cedar’s song and thought this sound was not a canoe but a mother. The sound was soft, a comfort, it did not sound like something that could travel on the sea. I listened, wondered, waited to see.

One day, when I came home from school, there was no singing, no ringing of the adze. I continued to visit the clearing for a few days, waited, but the carver did not return. When I climbed up onto the support I could see what I had heard, her heart was soft. This Cedar had already decided to become someone else, not a canoe.

We moved. Seasons passed.

A dozen years later I found my way back home.
She was easy to find, the clearing still apparent. The supports had long before rotted into the earth. She rested now upon the forest floor with her heart open to the sky. The outer wood was still strong. It formed a cradle holding her inner core, a soft home for many children, sprouts of many kinds.

She had become a Tree of Life