Wisdom of Trees with Leah Rampy, Beth Norcross and Morag Gamble

Join Morag Gamble in this episode with Leah Rampy and Beth Norcross to explore the possibilities of transformative relationships between humans and the more-than-human, and discover the spiritual wisdom of trees. 

From deepening our understanding of thoughts beyond language to learning from trees and mycelial networks, they share stories about our connections to nature and our processes of becoming rooted and fluid.

On Earth Day this year Leah & Beth released a book together called, Discovering the Spiritual Wisdom of Trees, exploring:

• Moving from science to spirit: how forestry and ecology meet mystery.
• Trees as spiritual beings and patient teachers.
• The loneliness of isolated trees—and what it teaches us about human community.
• Practices to connect more deeply with trees wherever you are.
• Cracking open: the vulnerable yet transformative journey of opening to nature’s wisdom.

Leah Rampy is a writer, speaker, and retreat leader living in a co-housing community who weaves ecology, spirituality, personal stories, and practices to help others deepen their relationship to the natural world. She is the founder and leader of Church of the Wild Two Rivers, and co-founded Save Our Soil - a volunteer organisation promoting soil health, local food, native plants, and regenerative agriculture.

Beth Norcross is a passionate spiritual guide, author, naturalist, TEDx speaker, and founder of The Center for Spirituality in Nature. She offers nature's wisdom for living with connection, resilience, joy, and hope, particularly in challenging and uncertain times. 

Transcript

Introduction

Morag Gamble:
 Welcome back to Sense-Making in a Changing World. Today, I’m thrilled to be joined by two wonderful guests—Beth Norcross and Leah Rampy—co-authors of the new book Discovering the Spiritual Wisdom of Trees. I just finished reading it and was overwhelmed by how much it stirred in me. This book is full of insight, heart, and deep reverence for trees as both ecological and spiritual beings.
 
 Beth and Leah, thank you so much for writing this book and for joining me today.

Locating Ourselves in Place

Beth Norcross:
 Thank you, Morag. I’m joining from the traditional lands of the Piscataway peoples, very close to Washington, D.C., in the Potomac River basin. Outside my window, I see tall tulip poplars, pines, and right now the cherry blossoms are beginning to bloom. Although it’s a suburban area, the trees thrive, and they hold a real presence here.
 
 Leah Rampy:
 And I’m speaking from further upriver in West Virginia, where I live in a cohousing community. We’ve set aside eight acres as a conservation area, and those woods are a gift. Just outside my window, the pussy willows are blooming. Birds land on the branches, the breeze moves through them. It’s spring here, and every day I notice something new in the trees.

How the Book Came to Be

Morag:
 Your love of trees is clearly something you share. Can you tell me how that love eventually brought you to write this book together?
 
 Leah:
 It really started with our shared passion for nature. When Beth was founding the Center for Spirituality in Nature, I was working at the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation. We connected over this sense of the sacred in the land around us. About four years ago, we began collaborating on a course for the Center on the spiritual wisdom of trees.
 
 Beth:
 That course was transformative—not just for us, but for the people who participated. We kept hearing stories: people recalling the tree they climbed as a child, or a tree they sat under during a pivotal moment in their lives. We realised people carry deep, emotional connections to trees. The response was so strong that we wanted to go further, to gather those ideas and practices into a book.

Moving from Science to Spirit

Morag:
 Beth, you began your career in forestry. How did you shift from that scientific framework into seeing trees as spiritual beings?
 
 Beth:
 I earned a master’s degree in forestry, and my training was all about growth rates, canopy cover, and the science of ecosystems. But there was always something more for me—a spiritual presence in the forest that science couldn’t explain. Over time, it became obvious: trees are not just organisms. They are spiritual beings, with guidance and wisdom to offer.
 
 The science still matters. In fact, as research deepens—discoveries about fungal networks, root communication, shared resources—it opens even more wonder. But the science alone is not enough.
 
 Leah:
 For me, it started the other way around. I simply loved trees. Later, when I began reading the science—Suzanne Simard’s work on the “wood wide web,” Merlin Sheldrake’s writing on fungi, Peter Wohlleben’s observations—it only added to my awe. Science and spirituality complement each other. Together they reveal a far richer picture of trees.

Trees as Teachers

Leah:
 We often speak of trees as teachers, even as soul friends. In the Celtic tradition, there’s a word anam cara—soul friend. That’s how I see trees. They listen without judgment, they model patience, and they show us what it means to live fully into who you are.
 
 Beth:
 Trees never pretend to be something they are not. They embody their true essence in every moment. That’s an extraordinary lesson for us as human beings—to live authentically, to offer our gifts to the world without apology.
 
 Morag:
 And they teach us about connection. A forest thrives not because of individual trees, but because of the web between them—the roots, the fungi, the invisible exchanges. That’s such an important reminder for us as communities too.

Loneliness and Connection

Morag:
 In the book, you also write about the loneliness of trees planted in isolation. That struck me deeply.
 
 Beth:
 Yes. In many suburban neighbourhoods, people plant one ornamental tree in the middle of a lawn. It looks pretty, but the tree is cut off from the network it needs. Trees aren’t meant to be alone. They rely on their neighbours—for nutrients, water, and the kind of camaraderie that makes the forest healthy.
 
 Leah:
 It’s tempting to project human emotions, but the science confirms it: isolated trees don’t thrive. They become more vulnerable to disease and stress. The moral lesson is clear. Just like trees, we too are not meant to be alone. We are woven into community, whether we acknowledge it or not.

Practices to Deepen Connection

Morag:
 One of my favourite parts of your book is the practices. Could you share a few ways people can connect more deeply with trees?
 
 Leah:
 Almost every practice begins with slowing down. We live in such a fast world, but when you approach a tree, the first invitation is simply to stop, breathe, and be present. One practice I love is the Celtic tradition of tuning the five-stringed harp—awakening each sense in turn. Notice what you see, smell, hear, feel, and even taste in the air as you sit with a tree.
 
 Beth:
 Another powerful practice is to ask: “What’s it like to be you?” Spend time with a tree that calls to you. Ask: What do you eat and drink? What is your relationship with others? What does home mean to you? Am I doing anything to harm you?
 
 It sounds simple, but it opens us to compassion. And often the answers we sense say as much about us as they do about the tree.
 
 Leah:
 We also encourage people to write haiku after being with a tree. The 5-7-5 syllable form forces you to distill your experience into a few words. It’s a way of noticing with depth and simplicity.
 
 Morag:
 I can see how these practices would enrich permaculture too. In design, I already ask students to observe, to use all their senses. But your approach pushes it further—from observation into relationship. That shift is profound.

Cracking Open

Leah:
 One metaphor we love is the acorn cracking open. At first, the acorn’s shell seems like protection. But it has to split apart to send roots down and shoots upward. That cracking open is painful, but it’s what allows growth.
 
 Beth:
 Exactly. Being cracked open means becoming vulnerable—to heartbreak, to challenge, but also to deep joy and renewal. It’s the promise of relationship: when you open yourself, you deepen your roots and find resilience.
 
 Morag:
 That resonates with me. During difficult years in my own life, it was nature—trees, soil, water, birds—that helped me heal. Cracking open was hard, but it also allowed me to grow into a deeper connection with life.

Listening and Co-Creating

Beth:
 Another important shift we write about is moving from “saving” nature to listening and co-creating with it. There’s a hubris in thinking we are here to save the earth. Trees invite us instead to listen: What does the land want? What is the tree’s dream? How can we join in co-creation rather than imposing our solutions?
 
 Leah:
 That doesn’t diminish the importance of activism—standing to protect forests, holding the line against destruction. But alongside action, we need discernment: the deep listening that shows us what is truly being asked of us in each moment.
 
 Morag:
 That is so aligned with permaculture too. Observation isn’t something you do once; it’s a way of being. Listening, watching, noticing—that’s the foundation for everything else.

Closing Reflections

Morag:
 Beth and Leah, thank you both for this conversation. It has been deeply inspiring. Your book, Discovering the Spiritual Wisdom of Trees, launches on Earth Day, April 22. I can’t wait to sit under my favourite tree and read it again, slowly and with reverence.
 
 Beth Norcross:
 Thank you, Morag. This has been a joy.
 
 Leah Rampy:
 Yes, thank you for the conversation and for your work, which aligns so beautifully with ours.