The Circle of Life -- The Zodiac Signs and the New Moon's Journey
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Rebecca Brents

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Learning the Tarot: A Tarot Book for Beginners
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Joan Bunning

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	The Money Tree by
Astrology, Tarot, and Self Improvement for the New Age.

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The Money Tree

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Some pieces of childhood fade with the setting of each sun, others linger and meld into solid changes that in adult life become nuances of our character. I didn't have my father for long, so most memories of him are sweet and remind me that my love for many things are rooted there. He was a troubled and brooding man, born on a Friday the 13th, in 1913. He did however have moments of levity and creating the money tree was one of them.

I was the only kid in town with a money tree. Everyday for years, the enormous oak tree in my side yard produced pennies and the little kids of the neighborhood believed in the magic of that tree.

My dad loved our yard and spent most of his free time outside tending some corner of it. He watered the lawn endlessly, standing and holding the hose, watching its spray make rainbows as the sunlight speared it. I think he found his only peace in life nurturing his garden, grass and trees. He planted some of them as little seedlings, no bigger than a finger, the size of the ones he ran over with the lawnmower when the larger trees shed. He stuck those little sticks in the ground and carefully guarded them until they grew strong enough to stand on their own without the little wire cages that kept us kids from breaking them down.

One summer, when I was still very young, one of his favorite trees became ill. It started to rot deep at its base. When we moved into my childhood home it was surrounded by tall, old-growth trees. There were originally nineteen, but as each summer season's thunderstorms rolled through, it seemed one of our trees went down. He did not want to lose another.

He spent weeks carefully digging the rot out with a shovel, screwdriver and whatever else worked, removing that diseased wood as lovingly as a nurse tending to the wounds of a fallen soldier during a time of war. Once it was clean of all the rotting wood and whatever the offending factor that was causing it, he mixed up cement in a wheelbarrow and began filling in the now gaping hole in the old tree's side.

My dad had a fanciful side that seldom showed itself at home. He was known for his practical jokes and outgoing manner, but this side of him he saved for strangers and friends. This tree was one of them. While the concrete was still wet, he etched in the names of his children, the date and an impression of a penny.

The little kids in the neighborhood were somewhat afraid of him, I think mostly because he had only one arm, the other lost during the war. Growing up I never knew there was more than one war, WWII, because it was only spoken of as "the war" and I also didn't know it was unusual to have a dad with one arm. For utility purposes, sometimes he wore a hook. He probably used it while working to save his friend's life.

I don't know how he ever convinced the first neighborhood child that this was a true money tree, but soon, all the little kids in the neighborhood knew about it. For years, every morning, there was a penny in the trees belly. Whoever got there first, got to keep the penny then magically, another would appear. For their entire believing childhoods, they trusted in that money tree. Year after year, the pennies appeared.

We moved away evenutally and the tree had to be taken down but the care my dad lavished on it gave that tree another 30 years. When the new owner's downed the tree, they saved that chunk of cement, tracked me down and gave it to me. I carried it around for years, with every move, I lugged that piece of my childhood with me. That, and the memory of my dad standing by the corner of the house, laughing, with a mischievious gleam in his eye.

I have grown to love trees and the glee of little children.

It is easy enough to praise men for the courage of their convictions.
I wish I could teach the sad young of this mealy generation
the courage of their confusions.
~ John Ciardi ~
Born June 24, 1916

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Enchanted Spirit is a non-denominational spiritual center of healing, support, self-improvement, personal guidance, education and writing. We publish multi-media works of New Age thought and information to encourage serenity and growth in individual life choices, advance the universal search for life's meaning, and promote tolerance for positive ideas from all philosophies and religious traditions, believing as we do that truth is where you find it.

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Last updated January 31st, 2004

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The Emotional Brain: The Mysterious Underpinnings of Emotional Life
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Joseph Ledoux