Teachings communed with Autumn and the trees. Traditions or superstitions, Nature spirits and the mission of each one. Translation from the portuguese original.

 Translation in english from my original in portuguese :  "Ensinamentos comungados do Outono e das árvores. Tradições ou superstições, espíritos da Natureza e a missão de cada um."

Autumn, Autumn, October, November and December, nights with noises, groans and prayers, in souls and houses, in fields and forests, between recurrent or unexpected downpours and blessed openings or calms.
After the walnut and hazelnut trees have been harvested, the last tree, and still organically grown, the chestnut tree, gives up its fruit, dropping it to animals and men, covered in the armour of a porcupine. On St Martin's Day, with the friendly fireplace, they will be consumed with the blood of wine in memory of fraternal self-denial, and they remind us how we must be protectors of nature, of human, animal and plant life, and how hard life is and how we must work and co-operate to reach the valuable fruits and break through the coverings that hide or imprison them.
The northerly or south-westerly breezes come in damp, cold and gather up the leaves and debris of the year in heaps that the whirlpools, those very special formations of the winds, make dance in ascending and descending spirals, causing us to sometimes sense the presence of playful spirits, or vague desires to leave, to dance, to rise in those subtle invisible currents..
People give thanks for the well-deserved end of an annual cycle, for what they have received from the harvest, or for the money, and, looking around, they see the slow internalisation of the winter that is beginning and which they must partly follow...

                                        

On the longest nights, when the sun goes down, or sinks in the ocean, anyone who has to go or dares to cross the fields and hills, sometimes hears strange crackles or noises that may sound like footsteps, voices, groans, lamentations. Small animals, wild boars or foxes, trees that are about to die, spirits of the harvest that are disappearing, souls from the other world lamenting the evils that have been done or are being done here, or that are coming to haunt those who will soon be released from the earth, who can discern or have the right intuition about the origin of such sounds?
It is said, however, in some villages in the mountains, less influenced by modern communication, that just as certain animals hibernate, such as snakes, so certain spirits of nature, when they have to lose the vigorous forms that spring and summer have intensified, in order to become more entrenched in the earth and in the roots of the trees that they will now support in winter, lament themselves and may be audible to some of the most sensitive people. Are they complaining about not being able to see, except through the barrier of the earth that surrounds them, the fields and the sky, as well as human beings or even the heavenly devas?
It is also said of the trees cut down at Christmas to make a communal fire or to be sold in towns, that such a sacrifice serves to free some of nature's elementals who will be able to ascend to higher stages of their evolution, with some even believing that their souls can be incorporated into those of animals or even humans, but when asked how they know this, which is not unanimous, the villagers or shepherds who echo this old lore, reply that it comes from the wisdom of the ancients, who certainly sensed subtly much more than we do today the interior and soul of nature, in its many forms and beings...
"So do you think that trees and animals have souls like men?", I asked them. "Without doubts," they replied in unison. And one of them goes on to tell me how he saw the little ox crying before it went into the slaughterhouse, or the tears from the sap that the trees let fall to the ground when men cut them down, especially without telling them and thanking them before killing, or still the suffering of some animals when their owners are ill. And they tell me also stories of woodcutters who have died because they didn't respect centuries-old trees, which surely have a spirit of nature of their own.

Then I would set off up the mountain, alone, to commune with the trees, sometimes conveying my love to them, sometimes leaning my forehead against them and asking them to cleanse it, sometimes hugging them from the front or the back, sometimes tuning in through my hands to the powerful forces that they channel between heaven and earth, sometimes sipping the scents of the mosses. I even speak to them sometimes, addressing the spirit of nature that dwells in them deeply and subtly, and they seem happy that most people are unaware of them and don't disturb them premeditatedly.

I contemplate longer some trees and observe the rotations and spirals generated over the years, the subtle forms of the spirits of nature that have revealed themselves and I admire the perseverance with which they put down roots in the rockiest terrain and stand like true columns and axes between Earth and Heaven, accepting all natural difficulties with equanimity or indifference, or even the conversations and disharmonious vibrations of the humans who pass by them, blind to their beauty and strength.
But there are some that are true masters, such is their grandeur, beauty or suggestiveness, truly impressive, whether seen from afar, when you approach them and when you touch them and lean against them.

I've tried to sit next to them and meditate with them. Perhaps the most important thing I have felt, understood or intuited is still the powerful energy of Gaia, of the Earth that bursts green with them, the inspiring richness of their canopies, the geometry of their leaves and branches, and the exemplarity of their vertical, solitary and firm position, beaten by the winds and fogs. And, even though they're locked away in their mountain hermitages, crying out to the world:

"- Oh men and women of weak wills, when will you learn to persevere more in the connection between Earth and Heaven, the natural world and the divine world, your personality and the spiritual spark? Don't you see us here day and night connecting the distant worlds and the earthly depths, resistant to storms and adversity? And you, any wind or cold, nightmare or disappointment knocks you out of your creative love, and you no longer know your roots, essence and the fruit you must bear?"

                                  

One of the highest lessons that trees give us is to discern the seeds that we contain and should bear fruit. To do this, we need to water and strengthen them, and not allow ourselves to be distracted, alienated or discouraged from the tasks, duties or missions (the swadharma) that are the responsibility of every human being incarnate on the earth's crust and which are based on spiritual self-knowledge (we are spirit, with soul and body) and the fair use of abilities or gifts that are useful for the Common Good and the Truth, not for ego, pleasure, competition or vanity, but for the good, beauty and harmony of Humanity, the Mother Earth and Divinity.
" Thus, they encourage us to guess or discover the seeds, trunks and shoots that are potentially contained in us and in those around us, and which can become useful flowers and fruits, or which really want and long for us to realise these impulses and potentialities...
In order to do this, we have to get up early, weed, give water, feed and fortify, and not allow ourselves to be distracted, alienated or discouraged from the simple or complicated, banal or extraordinary work that we have to do in our uniqueness as spiritual beings incarnated on the earth's crust, so that from all this work opens the fruitful flower in which the Divine Spirit springs from itself and harmonises and strengthens, inspires, cheers and propels us towards the Light and the Source...
 So, in communion with Nature and its trees and beings, let's strive to know how to deserve the best realisations of love and beauty, health and peace, ecological and spiritual life...