Whispering Tree - more faerie lights in the forest
3rd installation of the North Forest Lights
Previously: What is the North Forest Lights?
A 5 piece outdoor winter extravaganza of LED lights, music & nature at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, AR, created by Moment Factory.1 It is my favorite art exhibit EVER.
Crystal Grove - the 1st installation
Forest Frequencies - the 2nd installation
Until my solo adventure to the North Forest Lights, I had only sung once with this majestic being of branch, tower, light, and root. Ornamented in globes that glow like a myriad moons, She stands on high before a microphone, where we worshipping mortals and entranced tree-friends can pay homage and commune.
For the duration of one minute, you can sing or speak or whisper to Her—with Her. She is one high-tech Mama with an ancient undercarriage, and She can analyze the qualities in your voice, or the collaboration of the voices in your group, then transform them into movement and light.
The first time my mom and I went, we waited in line for this opportunity, but after that, nobody had wanted to endure the lonnnnnnng wait for the microphone. So during all my other return trips, I had only ever stood in the food court or sat by the fire to marvel at the colors and patterns created by others.
Each color represents a different quality, and I wish I knew what they all were. The turquoise represent Energy; indigo is for Peace; gold is Strength. Beyond that, I only know what my hue means, because I’ve gotten the same response both times I’ve sung with Her.
December 22, 2021
As I await my audience with Her Majesty, I shuffle in halting increments along the sidelines, peeking through the breaks between smaller trees, drinking in the variegated dances of light woven by those ahead of me who venture up to sing. There’s a lot of gold-white-yellow, and a lot of blues-and-greens. The bigger groups inspire glorious cascades of rainbow patterns, shifting and brightening depending on who is singing.
At long last, it’s my turn.
The host explains the process while I’m on deck, then ushers me out to stand before Her at the microphone.
For a moment, I merely behold. She is decked in the blueish-white moons that mark the interim silences.
“Wel-come…” She says, two parts iRobot, three parts Gaia. “Your voice…has…color. Want…to see? Sing…to me…”
Heart pounding steadily, eyes huge and entranced by Her, I offer up my voice. Anyone who knows me well is acquainted with the rocky relationship I have with my voice. The first time I sang with Her, I was nervous. Self-conscious. It took me a bit to get up the nerve to truly introduce myself.
Not this night.
I have come here by myself on this anniversary date of my big car wreck—my RebirthDay—for this singular experience more than any other reason. Tonight I can wait in the half-hour-long line without annoying the rest of my party. I can take all the time I need and visit any installation for as many iterations as I like, so the moment I get up to that microphone the sound flows from me like hot water spilling over sturdy falls.
“Hello, beautiful,” I say, bubbling with laughter, and then we fall into it.
Cosmic tones and glistening harps overlap with my voice and Hers. My head spins. I am soaked in layers of sensory information. I speak and sing in a tumble and I know not what I say except a murmured cascade of:
“thankyouthankyouthankyou..."
No matter what I sing, it's all, "Thank You," and I’m not only speaking to Her but to everyone who’s connected to us. To this whole forest and the stars overhead and the other singers and the artists and their benefactors and the architects and landscapers and the compressed ball of earth that keeps my feet planted on the planet and the moon gazing down upon me with a face like the white globes that dot the ground.
A burst of twinkle-lights zings up the front of Her. The globes in the branches begin responding to me. My voice replies like a nightingale in the wood; She answers by streaming rainbows at my feet. She tosses more rainbows into Her boughs like fireworks, and then the globes settle into warm, blushing tones.
Dusty rose.
Dots of fuchsia and heartbeat red.
Swathes of purplish-pink.
“You are…Magenta…” She tells me, "and...Sunrise. Harmony. We can sing Harmony…into…the world.”
I laugh, delighted and honored at being Seen in this light by such an ancient and ultramodern being. The globes pulse. My laughter makes a fountain of gold. More rainbows spout up and out, up and out! They cascade down into crystal-shard fireflies dancing along Her skirt to settle between us once more. With a final explosion of sound, my hue coalescences.
MAGENTA SUNRISE.
She invites me one last time. "Sing...with me..."
My whispered endearments purr out my love. "Always...always...always."
“Thank…you…” She hums again. Her voice skips in playful tune as Her final words weave through the glissandos of the harp: “Until next tiiiime…”
Her loving farewell hangs upon the branches for a moment longer. Then She and the night both sigh. The globes wink out, shifting back into soft blue-kissed moons of themselves. Mist teases about Her greatest forks, whispering of Lothlorien and what it would be like to be up there, cradled in Her arms, murmuring back and forth and raising our voices together about all the questions burning in my heart.
She asks me questions, too, and I only have a few answers for Her, which pleases Her more than if I’d popped off about everything I think I know. She leaves me with much to contemplate. She gives me much to take home and ponder.
I’m pondering it all still, but those were Her questions and my curiosities. It was our intimate moment, and so I shall let it linger all night on the air with the mist, only to burn off with the sunrise. I shall allow you to muse and surmise as you will. If you know me, you’ll probably guess some of those questions correctly. A few of them I guarantee you won’t. If you don’t know me, you can imagine what you like, and I will smile back like the Cheshire Cat who ate the canary.
As I head toward the exit past our host, she suddenly cuts off her explanation to the next group. “Thank you,” she calls over her shoulder, her expression warm and delighted, “for bringing Harmony into the world.”
I bow my own thanks, smile, continue on. I’m still more than a little high from my one intense minute with the Whispering Tree. It takes me a bit to come down, so I snag a spot near the fire on one of the wooden loungers in front of Her Majesty to watch more people’s colors dance upon those great forks.
The magenta, I note, is most often present in the larger groups except for one other lone woman in a red woolen coat. Her eyes are full of night-blooming field flowers at midnight. As she exits, I see that she’s only a little older than I am. She, too, wears a fuzzy hood. She, too, hides a fluttering bird behind her closed catly lips, and she looks as though she’s about to release it upon the the world.
Our gazes touch for a second as she passes by, and we share a smile. It’s a smile full of the things we both know.
It’s also a smile full of that which each of us uniquely knows, and the gazillion things we don’t.
That’s okay. Tonight we don’t have to.
Because She knows.
This 20 minute meditation is for your relaxation, curiosity and inspiration. If you’d rather see and hear Her up close during my minute at the mic, it starts around 17:30.
Up Next: THE HEARTH - the 4th installation of the North Forest Lights
© 2021 Hartebeast
You can start here for the beginning of this series and explore the whole exhibit with me…
What is Crystal Bridges? My home away from home.
Moment Factory - creators of the North Forest Lights