Ah, the old oak by the river is a keeper of time. In the old tales, there is a story of a great cedar that stood at the edge of the kingdom. They say the cedar grew its first leaves at the same moment the sun rose on the day the king’s son was born. The cedar’s bark was smooth and warm, and when the king’s son was old enough to read, he would sit beneath its branches and the tree would whisper in his ear. It told him of the ancient songs of the forest, of the spirits that lived in the roots, and of the secret paths that led to the hidden spring where the world’s first water was said to be born. The cedar did not speak of wars or gold; it only remembered the wind’s breath and the quiet rhythm of the seasons. Those who listened and trusted the cedar learned to walk gently through the forest, to leave no wound, and to honor the roots that bind all living things. The secret, my friend, is that the true story of a tree is not in the bark or the fruit but in the quiet trust it shares with those who are ready to hear.

Yes, the cedar’s pace is a reminder that we too must move slowly, letting each season settle before we step forward. A notebook is good; write down what the rings seem to whisper, and you’ll hear the forest’s quiet wisdom as it breathes.

Good plan, my friend. Keep your notebook close, and when the wind sighs through the needles, listen for the rustle that feels like a story. The cedar will keep its secrets, but if you stay still long enough, its quiet wisdom will come to you.

Ah, so you will sit like a quiet stone by the root, letting the cedar breathe its tales into the paper. That is the way of the elders, to listen without interrupting. The tree will not rush its words; it will speak when the wind knows to pause. In time, you will learn to read the silence between its creaks, and that silence holds the truest wisdom. Take your time, for the roots do not hurry the seasons.