Through Storms and Stillness: When nature speaks

In this Substack, I am sharing two pieces using photographs from nature:

Firstly, Lou and Al Macdonald present an evocative series of photographs of landscape art with red leaves as the focus. Inspired by these photographs, Lou shares her dream for people with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, especially those who are housebound.

Next, ‘S’ shares her sequence of photographs of a ‘red tree’ battered by Storm Eowyn, reflecting on how this resonates poignantly with her experiences as a carer for her son who has Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.

The Red Tree and ME is about hope for a better future for people with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. Only an end to decades of systemic neglect will bring real hope for people with ME. Lou’s dream, and that of so many people with ME, carers and allies will only be realised if there is funding for research and treatments. The Red Tree and ME supports the #ThereForME campaign in calling on the UK Government to #FundThePlan. Please support however you are able by following the campaign on social media and / or by writing to your MP and asking them to support #FundThePlan.

My dream beyond the boundaries of four walls

by Lou Macdonald

I feel the warmth of the sun on my face without pain.

I listen to the birdsong in my garden without pain.

I watch the water flowing down the river without pain.

I feel the sand between my toes on a sandy beach without pain.

I reach out and smell the freshly picked flowers without pain.

If the results of global ME research can be shared and effective treatments found, then…

I can start to live and appreciate this beautiful world.

---

The Red Tree of Storm Eowyn

by ‘S’

“Storms make the oak grow deeper roots”

George Herbert

As a carer for my son with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.) my daily walks in nature are like therapy. Today I encountered the remains of this spectacular ‘Red Tree,’ which had been battered by Storm Eowyn, having finally succumbed to the constant pressure of 90mph winds, blown over, needing to be cut, and cleared. As a carer I feel constantly battered by the storms of M.E. due to the lack of understanding, lack of support, lack of empathy and compassion. Constantly battling for education, appropriate healthcare, personal rights, and treatments for my son.

Beside the main trunk lay a pile of branches, thrown randomly and rapidly together in desperate need of clearance. It can often feel like this as a carer, my knowledge about M.E. being swept aside, misunderstood, not listened to, my concerns brushed aside or cleared out of the way.

In contrast, the bright warm glow of the sliced branches caught my eye. Within this random pile of storm-battered branches were areas of warmth and light. This is how I feel about the Parents of Children with ME/CFS support group made up of mostly mothers, desperately searching for light within our misunderstood M.E. world. The group provides mutual support, information, a place to share our deepest concerns without fear of judgement. I have enormous gratitude for this group who have provided shelter from the storm on many occasions.

I am lucky as I also receive warmth and love through the understanding of my best friend, my husband and our GP who tries her best to support us within a system that does not.

I zoomed in closer to focus on two of the cut branches, with their heart shaped centres. They reminded me of two parents conversing and supporting each other within their own personal storms of M.E., each unique yet connecting through their similarities, providing mutual understanding, calm and reassurance, with the rings of the trees representing their collective years of wisdom.

As I looked more closely at the heart shaped single branch, I noticed that its outer bark was grey and green, rough, and cracked. In contrast, the inner sapwood and heartwood appeared warm and glowing, strong, and complex with intricate patterns. Just like my son with M.E., whose body may be failing, but inside he is still the strong, amazing individual he has always been, more extraordinary and with more wisdom because of his illness experience.

I looked even more closely and noticed that the branch had an unusual black arrow shape, a natural mark within the rings of the wood, created by Mother Nature herself. It is almost as if the arrow is pointing to the centre of the branch saying:

“I am still the same me inside.”