Act 2 Scent 2: Wands of the Forest
Updated: Aug 18
Star-gazing at our past lives, searching for all the connecting pieces ~
“We’re smaller than dust. God doesn’t always see us. But it’s okay, as long as we see each other.”
— Translated, The Narrow Road (2022)
While driving through the eastern side of Jeju Island (Korea) during a holiday, I discovered a stream of cedarwood trees that adorned both sides of the serpentine road. Faced with a serendipitous moment, I circled the route a few times until I found a narrow inlet leading to an abandoned ranger station where I could park.
A month prior, while writing my earlier memoir on tangerine peels (Act 1 Scent 3: Golden Wrinkle), I had no idea that tangerines were the signature fruit of the island. Upon arrival, what began as an “I know nothing about Jeju” kind of trip gradually unfolded into a manifestation of what I had already written. Little did I know, I would find myself stepping into the next entry in my scent journey: cedarwood.
Naturally, I looked up in awe of the surrounding cedar, as if searching for answers that might sprinkle from the heavens above if I stared long enough—trying to make sense of the chapters of my journey, underlining the blank spaces where missing pieces should have been. In the midst of the forest, what I actually found was the quiet fondness of natural elements whispering in varying pitches and tones. Often known as the “tree of life” among the Indigenous cultures, the reach of the cedarwood tree (Cedrus atlantica/Juniperus virginiana) seemed to connect heaven and earth before my eyes.
A celestial timeline recorded within the dry woody sweetness absorbed in the layers of soft flaky bark. In the early days of civilization, cedar was regarded as a foundational material used across generations for shelter, tools, medicine, and prayer. A relationship connecting us to a higher being, like echoes of Eywa and the Tree of Souls in the Avatar films, where those who seek healing, guidance, and memory gather beneath its living presence.
Often I ponder whether our inability to grasp these higher levels of spiritual connection led to the advent of modern day usage of cedar, the pencil. A vessel allowing our thoughts and ideas to take tangible shape. Perhaps the mind was never meant to figure things out in isolation, and these simple but profound instruments unlocked the doorway to enlightenment.
Through the waves of past, present, and future, I tend to focus only on the surface current that flows through me, tracing what I have done right and wrong, and what needs to be realized—filling in the missing pieces with lessons slowly learned. Whether it’s understanding the psychology of my own mind, looking to the stars above, sitting alone with my faith, leaning on those comforting shoulders, or journaling my pool of thoughts, I began to realize it was never about what was missing. Rather, it was about calming and aligning the heart and mind to see the answers appear within the bark of the ageless timber,
…while creating new pieces to branch out from.
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