Karis Harlon

One of the things that always fascinates me when people come to Haven and meet our magnificent Grandmother Mango Tree for the first time is how quickly they are drawn to her. Her enormous presence, her beauty, her magnificence. And yet, so often, one of the very first questions they ask is, “Does she still produce fruit?”

And I always find this such an interesting reflection of the culture we live in. This deeply ingrained idea that our worth is somehow measured by what we produce, what we create, what we contribute. That to be valuable, we must still be bearing fruit.

In all the years we’ve had the sacred privilege of being custodians of this land, I’ve never once wished for her to produce the sweet mangoes she perhaps once did. Because to me, the fruit she bears now is something infinitely more precious.

She is our wise Crone. Our ancient Grandmother. A magnificent elder who has stood on this land through countless seasons, witnessed so many changes, felt so much life move beneath her canopy and through her roots. And the wisdom she shares with me is some of the most sacred medicine I have ever received.

I bow at her roots. I rest against her trunk. I sit in deep reverence for the wisdom she so generously offers me, day after day.

And it makes me think about how we treat our human elders. I wouldn’t sit at the feet of a wise old woman and ask her why she is no longer bearing the fruits of her youth. She has already walked that path. She has moved through that sacred rite of passage and arrived somewhere else entirely. Somewhere where her greatest offering is no longer what she produces, but the wisdom she embodies. The stories she carries. The sacred transmission of a life deeply lived.

And yet, as a culture, how much of this have we forgotten?

Continued in comments…