The Banyan Tree

by Maggie Winfrey

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

John 14:27 

As a child growing up in the Panama Canal Zone, some of my earliest memories come from sitting at a mahogany table and benches my dad Dee made from lumber cut from a nearby jungle. Though the dining set was beautiful, our mealtimes were not peaceful. At breakfast or dinner, my parents tiffed about small things, back and forth, forth and back. Their discord unsettled my little sense of being.

To find peace, I would raise my eyes to the large facing window and get lost in the branches of the enormous Banyan tree overshadowing our yard and two neighbors’.

In her arms I discovered a different dimension that was intuitive, nonverbal, and wiser than surface business as usual, inviting me into a new world of infinite mystery. Her curving, entwining huge arms and small branches, leaf and bark, each wondrous and mysterious shape, revealed deeper truths than any argument. I was transported away from strife to serenity, from turmoil to calm. I came to see that Love revealed in Existence Itself is greater than any moment of discord.

I soon became soothed with a quiet knowing that circumstances do not define who I am. Love’s Truth supersedes and dissolves turmoil with boundless strength. No matter what we call it, God, Mystery, Beloved, nature sources like the Banyan tree reveal the Truth that directs the Cosmos. This Big Love exists everywhere.

The Banyan tree became my refuge. She listened to my heart worn with sorrow. She dried my tears and healed my spirit, affirming me as my true self. She showed me the way out of the storm to Light and Love. Her strength given then remains with me even now.

I have carried this deep knowing within me ever since. My Centering Prayer practice accesses it. It comes up all day long. It is here in the middle of the night. It is a ceaseless, ever-flowing stream of Love. We are in it. It is in us. It flows all around us, through us, among us.   

I find a soul friend in Howard Thurman who talked to the old oak tree in his front yard as a young child. He later wrote

“I needed the strength of that tree, and like it, I would hold my ground…I would reach down in the quiet places of my spirit, take out my bruises and my joys, unfold them, and talk about them. I could talk aloud to the oak tree and know that it understood.” [1]

Many trees have been sources of wisdom for me through the years. Now, in my backyard in Greensboro, North Carolina, stands an elegant, elderly maple. Winter reveals her magnificence, her branches strong and straight, stretching beyond sight. Her trunk, more powerful than a champion weight-lifter, easily bears her load.

I call her Sophie Reaches Love because that’s what she embodies. She reveals the truth of our Beloved God, who is greater than any storm.

Like the Banyan tree, Sophie radiates God’s absolute peace, truer and deeper than the world’s turmoil. She stands powerful, rooted in Love. Strong winds may bow her limbs, but she remains, mighty still. We too can weather any storm with this deep knowing.

We find it when we go deep, moving beyond ordinary awareness into a genuine knowing that lives within each one of us. Centering Prayer is one path. Other ways are accessible too—forest-bathing, mindfulness, breath prayer—to name a few. Discovering God’s presence in nature shows us the way through any storm.

Do you have a favorite tree? Or other nature-source that heals, restores, and invites you to Love?

[1] Coleman Brown, Lerita, What Makes You Come Alive: A Spiritual Walk with Howard Thurman, Minneapolis, MN, 2023, 48,49.

Our Way Out of the Maze

by Maggie Winfrey

My dad, whom I call Dee, often shared stories of his childhood as a motherless boy on a farm in northern North Dakota. The winters were harsh, with fierce blizzards and blinding whiteouts. One particularly cold day, he rode his pony, as usual, the few miles to the one-room schoolhouse that served all the children from nearby farms. His pony joined the others in the barn while he studied.

By the time school let out, the wind had picked up, and heavy snow began to fall. Dee, accustomed to the snow, had a method for finding his way home. He would gauge the wind’s direction by the way it hit his face, using it as a guide for his pony. As they made their way, the snow intensified, and soon all landmarks vanished. Dee continued forward, trusting the wind on his face to lead him, like a thread through the maze.

As darkness covered them, the snow was up to the pony’s flank, but they pushed on. Soon, Dee saw a light in the distance. They made their way toward it, but when they arrived, it wasn’t home. It was the house of a German family who lived several miles away. The mother welcomed him in, shook the snow from his clothes, and wrapped him in warmth. Meanwhile, her children tended to the pony in the barn.

What had happened was simple: the wind had shifted. Where Dee had originally been headed was no longer the way home—it could have led him into peril. But the change in wind had steered him toward safety, guiding him away from danger and into shelter.

Centering Prayer offers us guidance much like the wind guided Dee that day. Like traveling through a blinding snowstorm, we don’t always know where the path leads. We can’t see around the corner, but we trust the wind’s direction—just as Dee trusted the wind on his face. We hold onto an indescribable hope, deeply rooted within, knowing it will lead us out of the maze. It’s the way through the storm to safety and shelter. And it’s how our Beloved God guides us as we trust the wind that leads us to the Light.

In John 10:3-4, Jesus says, “The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice.” We know his voice. We hear it in the silence of Centering Prayer.

Photo by Xavier Von Erlach, Unsplash