I, XPȺ – The Western Red Cedar
Speaking for the Trees: Island Voices in the Forest (story #4)
I rise with quiet grace on SḴŦAḴ | Mayne Island, my branches draped like open arms, my fragrant wood carrying stories older than memory. I am the Western red cedar, gentle in voice, enduring in presence, and long honoured as the “Tree of Life.” I have stood here longer than the oldest stories, watching tides shift, winds change, and generations come and go. I do not shout my wisdom. I offer it softly, in the hush of my scale-like leaves and the steady patience of my growth.
I am more than trunk and timber. I am an old grandmother of this land.
My canopy is a refuge for songbirds, bats and owls. My roots anchor the hillside with a strength earned over centuries. My fallen leaves enrich the soil, making way for those who will rise after me. I have weathered storms that would have broken younger trees, learning how to endure without hardening, how to give without emptying, how to remain steady even as the world shifts around me.
For countless generations, Indigenous peoples have known me as sacred. My bark was softened into mats and clothing; my roots braided into rope; my medicine used to cleanse, heal, and protect. I was approached with gratitude, thoughtful prayer, and the understanding that taking requires giving back. These relationships shaped me as much as I shaped them. Through them, I learned what it means to be trusted, to be a keeper of stories, a shelter for families, a quiet witness to the unfolding of life.
I am resilient not because I am rigid, but because I bend. Storms have taught me that strength lies in flexibility, in yielding just enough to survive the wind while keeping my heartwood intact. I whisper of balance… of offering shelter without losing oneself, of holding wisdom lightly, of knowing when to stand firm and when to sway.
And if you listen closely, you will hear one of my oldest teachings: hold space for others.
I have sheltered birds, insects, and weary travellers for centuries. Offer refuge where you can…a kind word, a shared meal, a moment of understanding. This is how roots intertwine.
Here on SḴŦAḴ, you live within a rare Coastal Douglas fir ecosystem, a place where every act of care matters. When you pause beneath my branches, when you plant a native seedling, when you choose to tread gently, you become part of the long story I have been telling for centuries.
The forest notices. The forest remembers.
And so I continue to speak… not in words, but in the fragrance of my wood, in the sway of my branches in winter winds, in the shelter I offer to all who seek refuge. My voice joins the chorus of SḴŦAḴ’s forest, reminding you that wisdom is found in listening, and resilience in reciprocity.
As my branches sway, I invite you to listen for my kin, alder. With roots that enrich the soil and a spirit of renewal, alder will share its story in the next issue of the Oystercatcher.
0 Comments