Being reminded of roots

This week I visited Llanddwyn beach and island on Anglesey. It’s a special place for many and this was the first time I’ve visited so I wondered how I’d feel when I got there.

It is truly a lovely place, through the forest to a wide expanse of beach, and a promontory that becomes an island at high tide. It’s a place where you can find peace and space in your own way, be that walking the dog, a family trip out, kitesurfing or walking out to the island.

What really struck me was the landscape and the way the forest meets the beach, with trees growing right in the sand dunes it seemed. And where the sand had shifted underneath, the exposed tree roots. It was fascinating to see what’s usually hidden, the invisible supporting infrastructure and to see where the support was gone and the trees fallen. It was both beautiful and destructive.

Since then I’ve been thinking about trees and why it’s a picture that’s stayed with me. Trees feature in many traditions - Celtic of course, but also Mesopotamia, Chinese mythology, Christianity, the Quran, the Torah, Hindu texts, ancient civilisations like the Mayans and Aztecs, and North American first nations all place sacred importance on trees. Trees represent the features they embody - longevity, strength and growth, the tree of life. In some traditions they connect to spirits - the branches reaching skyward to the heavens as the roots reach downwards to the underworld.

There’s also a figurative meaning - we use tree diagrams to denote lineage, tracing paths back through the generations, mapping change.

And we find trees calming, spending time in nature, forest bathing - trees are good for us and our environment, soaking up carbon, maintaining balance in the world.

So now when I practise tree pose, I think about what I saw on the beach at Llanddwyn, the exposed roots, both vulnerable and beautiful, reaching into the ground to find strength deep below the shifting sand dunes.