You can't tell from looking at me,
but I actually grew up deep in the woods.
My childhood home was an antiquated log cabin
surrounded by so much forest,
you couldn't even see the distant road in the winter.
So I spent my free time playing among the trees,
climbing their branches,
and seeing what treasures I could discover
among their roots.
We relied on wood from those trees to warm our house,
cook our meals, and heat up water.
Some provided food, others syrup,
and they all provided shade.
That childhood, while certainly imperfect,
gave me a deep appreciation for nature.
I was so grateful for everything the trees provided
that I did the 21st century equivalent of begging Gaia
to turn me into a dryad
and got a tattoo of an oak tree on my arm.
But I was by no means the first person
to pay my respects to the majestic tree.
Humans around the world have been doing that
for thousands of years
in ways that were immortalized in our myths.
[light upbeat music]
Even without all of the vital,
practical things trees provide,
it's hard not to see them as divine or magical.
Their sheer size can seem to connect
the Earth to the heavens,
and their centuries long lifespans
mean a single tree can watch over a family
or community for several generations,
long enough that its origin fades into legend.
Even the deciduous trees that shed their leaves every year
blossom again in the spring,
showing that they weren't dead at all,
just taking a little nap before it returned with its gifts.
It was easy for many of our ancestors
to interpret something so immortal
and abundant as the gift or even embodiment of a god.
But I think the reciprocal nature
of our relationship to trees
is the real reason they're so common in folklore.
We rely on them, but they also rely on us.
And beneath every story about the wonders trees provide,
there's a sometimes not so hidden message
about what will happen if we don't take care of them.
In Thailand, Buddhist folklore tells
of a tree called the Nariphon or Makkaliphon
that grows fruit in the shape of young women.
According to one of the Jataka or a series of texts
that described the various lives of the Buddha,
the trees were planted in a sacred grove
by the god Indra to protect, Maddi,
Buddha's wife in a previous life.
In that life the Buddha was known as Prince Vessantara,
the son of a woman who was beloved by Indra.
Vessantara was so generous
that he was exiled from his own kingdom
for giving a gift that he shouldn't have.
While in exile, Vessantara and Maddi traveled
through the legendary Himavanta forest
full of dangerous creatures.
It's said that Indra shaped the fruit like a young woman
to entice ill-intentioned men who would be drawn
to the Nariphon for obvious and disgusting reasons.
Thus, they would be distracted from chasing Maddi.
If a man picked the Nariphon's fruit
and took it to his bed, gross,
he would quickly find himself sterile
and stripped of any powers he might possess.
Women, however, were immune to the fruit,
and instead could use it
as a fertility talisman if they waited for the fruit
to fall naturally from the tree after a week of growing.
The location of the legendary Himavanta forest
and the grove of Nariphon trees is unknown,
but you can still find street vendors
in Thailand who claim to sell
these woman shaped dried fruits to boost fertility.
Just a few years ago, a video circulating on social media
showing what appeared to be one of these Nariphon trees
got a lot of attention.
Though the videos were never verified as real,
this shows that the myth
of woman-shaped fruit is alive and well in Southeast Asia.
So for some cultures, trees and their fruits were gifts
from the gods to us humans.
Other stories positioned trees
as the botanical embodiment of a mystical figure.
For example, the dryads who helped inspire my tattoo
were minor Greek goddesses or nymphs who inhabited
and looked after trees and woodlands.
Dryads served as the spirits of trees,
and when they flourished, their tree thrived.
When a dryad was sick or injured, so was their tree.
Originally, the term dryad only referred
to the spirits of oak trees,
which were considered sacred to Zeus.
Ash trees were guarded by Meliae,
certain mountain trees by Oreiades,
and fruit trees by Meliades.
Laurels were inhabited by the Daphnaie,
named for the water nymph Daphne,
who was unlucky enough to catch the god Apollo's attention.
After running from the sun god's advances,
Daphne implored Gaia, the Earth mother, for help.
She was transformed into a laurel tree
and saved from Apollo's relentless pursuit,
only for the laurels she protected
to become sacred to the god she fled.
Dryad eventually became the general term for any tree nymph
due to the oak trees prevalence in ancient Greece
and their connection to the king of the gods.
As spirits of the forest,
dryads could make plants grow or die as they pleased,
but mostly they acted as stewards of their woods.
This idea that trees and other elements of nature
each had their own living spirit
certainly wasn't unique to the Greeks.
Animism was practiced
by many of Europe's pre-Christian pagans,
like the Celts and Germanic tribes who respected
or even worshiped the spirits of inanimate things.
Those spirits weren't necessarily
considered gods, however.
As far as we can tell,
the Celtic Tree of Life, or Crann Bethadh,
was central to Celtic culture,
but it didn't represent a specific important deity.
Instead, it represented the balance of forces in nature.
The Celts saw a beauty
in the way that the trees roots stretched deep below ground
while its branches stretched high into the heavens,
demonstrating the connection
between different realms of the cosmos.
To the Celts, the tree of life was an oak tree,
likely because these were the oldest tallest trees
in their sacred forests,
so tall that they would often be struck by lightning,
which would be interpreted
as a sign of their favor by the gods.
Plenty of other cultures had their own tree of life
that represented the balance of natural forces,
but some of them also provided connections
between different worlds.
These are often called world or cosmic trees.
We mentioned the baobab tree
in our episode on Yoruba folklore.
This tree was said to be the home
of the Orisha in their heavenly realm
before Obatala created land down here on Earth.
The baobab is often called the African Tree of Life
because of the way it looms over the desert,
providing shade and hundreds of valuable uses
with its bark and sap.
Those trees can live for 3000 years
and grow over 100 feet tall and 50 feet wide.
Many origin myths for the baobab
involve it being planted upside down.
In one story, the baobab tree
kept walking after it was planted,
so God ripped it up and replanted it upside down.
In another, the hyena was assigned the job
of planting the baobab tree, but found it so ugly
that he planted its branches in the dirt.
Another cosmic tree on the other side of the world
is the Ceiba, sacred to many peoples throughout the tropics,
including the Maya of Mesoamerica
and the Taino from Puerto Rico and the Caribbean.
The Mayans called it Yaxche
and believed it was a world tree
that acted as the scaffolding for their universe.
The Ceiba trees' irregular bloom cycle
demonstrated the unbreakable
and traversable tether between life and death.
So it's no surprise that Yaxche's roots
and branches served as portals to the Mayan afterlife.
Spirits could climb them to reach their final destinations.
The Ceiba tree is such an important cultural symbol
that when a 400 year old Ceiba blossomed on Vieques island
after being ravaged by Hurricanes Irma and Maria,
the islanders saw it as a sign of hope and encouragement
that they would bounce back from all the damage.
Perhaps the most well-known world tree for mythology
is the Norse Yggdrasil.
This cosmic tree was said to hold
all the nine worlds of the Norse cosmos
in its roots and branches, including Midgard and Asgard.
Some sources claim that Yggdrasil is an ash tree,
but that's hotly debated.
Regardless of its exact species,
Yggdrasil's health is vital to the health
of the Norse universe and to their head god, Odin.
According to legend, Odin sacrificed his own blood
and his eye to himself by voluntarily hanging
from Yggdrasil for nine days, as one does.
In doing so, he gained knowledge and wisdom.
World trees serve the paramount purpose
of balancing life forces and supporting a stable universe.
But if you have more selfish desires,
you'll want to look for a wishing tree.
Throughout the world,
ancient and modern people alike have made wishes on trees
by tying ribbons to their branches,
hammering special coins into their bark,
or tossing notes into their canopies.
Hindu myths tell of the Kalpavriksha,
a wish granting tree that emerged
from the primordial waters
during a legendary battle between the gods or devas
and demons or asuras.
After being poisoned, the devas searched
for a healing elixir at the bottom of a milky ocean.
But in their churning
brought up many treasures from the depths.
It's unclear what type of tree the Kalpavriksha is,
though many compare it to the banyan,
one of India's most sacred trees.
Myths like these make trees sacred,
or at least worthy of our care and protection.
Other stories act as cautionary tales
that scare us into looking after our woody friends.
Japanese folklore has tales of the Jubokko,
a yokai who forms when enough blood
has been violently spilled on its roots.
These trees who have seen too little kindness
and received too few thanks
turn hostile and use their sharp branches
to grab anyone who gets too close and drain their blood.
Having grown up surrounded by trees in a lifestyle
slightly more reminiscent of our ancestors than most,
I personally understand the importance
of treating them well.
A sick tree on your property can fall down
on your possessions or spread rot to its neighbors.
Trees become the stuff of nightmares when we neglect them,
but they literally keep us alive
when we give them the bare minimum of care.
Let's all take a hint from these ancient cultures
all over the world and stop every once in a while
to see trees for the true gifts they are.
Clearly having a close connection with nature
is something very personal to me,
which is why I'm so excited to tell you
about a new series on PBS Terra called "Women of the Earth."
It's a series that introduces you to women
who are pioneering movements to heal the Earth
from climate change.
There is a link in the description.
We hope you check it out
and the rest of PBS's Earth Month playlist too.
[no audio]
Accessibility provided by the U.S. Department of Education.
[no audio continues]