Massimo emailed some information about how the plant-music device worked. This was a relief because if I was going to be hosting the forest concert I needed to have the facts really clear in my mind. I watched a video about the sacred woods at the Damanhur community in Italy, the place where Massimo had first seen the music of plant device in action. In the video live musicians were playing instruments while the plants chimed along in the background. Our concert was going to be different though, of course. Ours would have only one musician – the Memory Tree.
From what I could understand, the Memory Tree, once hooked up to the plant-music device, would send a signal, like a pulse in the form of its vibrational energy. The device feeds the pulsating energy into a synthesiser, which transforms the tree’s energy into sound. Our forest concert would be the first time anyone in the audience would have heard a tree have its voice in a way that humans could understand, through sound. Maybe then, people would see all the pines as more than just invasive weeds, or some problem that needed ‘removing’. With a voice, for the very first time, the Memory Tree could express itself not as an object, but as a light-giving, sensitive being, vibrating with aliveness.
This was the scenario I came back to whenever fears crept into my mind, like being heckled by someone in the audience. I couldn’t flounder. I had to have all my knowledge right there at the forefront of my mind. Mikki’s grandfather’s research had already proven that nature vibrates at a high frequency and that humans could tap into this too. This is why forests are so powerful; trees can help raise the speed of energy vibrating inside us … I mean, isn’t that amazing? All humans need to do to commune with trees is set up the conditions to be open to nature’s vibrations.
Mikki called to say the courier service had told him a parcel was on its way.
‘I can’t believe it!’ I said.
‘Can you be ready in five?’ Mikki asked. ‘My mum said there’s literally hundreds of posters up around town. She even saw someone taking some down! I thought we’d agreed on fifty with Clementine?’
‘Mmm,’ I said. ‘Not at all like Clementine to go overboard.’
‘I think we better go check it out,’ he said.
Junko was right. As we rode into town on Mikki’s bike we saw forest concert posters on every electricity pole.
Mikki laughed. ‘Clementine’s a hard worker,’ Mikki said. ‘And we do need to promote the concert but—’
‘There is actually no hope for that girl!’ I said. As we got closer to the town centre there were posters stuck to every possible surface. Clementine had even poster-bombed the Give Way sign near the library.
‘How did she even achieve this?’ I said. ‘I can’t imagine Dad was involved.’
Mikki pulled up outside the library. I counted ten forest concert posters on the public noticeboard near the front door.
‘Clementine’s actually gone insane!’ I said.
That’s when Mikki and I bumped into Dad, who said he had just bumped into Mrs McGlashan from the council, who had just spoken to Mayor Pizzey, who said the posters had to stop. Not only that, Mrs McGlashan said that Mayor Pizzey had insisted any public event held on land in Kingfisher Shire required written permission from the council and a permit!
‘It’s just a bit of red tape,’ Dad said. ‘Nothing that can’t be sorted out, with time.’
My heart sank low, dragging my vibrations down with it.
‘Time!’ I exclaimed. ‘The very thing we don’t have. If we don’t get a permit for the forest concert, we won’t save the trees! Why is Mayor Pizzey being so mean?’
When Mikki and I got back to our place Clementine was in the kitchen burning toast.
‘Clementine … the posters. There’s about a million all over town. What the hell?’
‘God, Bertie, you’re the one who put me in charge of marketing!’ Clementine squeaked.
‘Now we have to get a dumb permit and we might not be able to have the forest concert at all!’
‘There’s just no pleasing you is there, Alberta?’ she screamed.
Mikki looked a little embarrassed.
‘You did do a very thorough job, Clementine,’ Mikki said.
‘Thank you, Mikki,’ Clementine said. She opened the fridge and practically stuck her whole head inside looking for the butter. Then she slammed it shut. I could hear Mum coming down the hall. Next thing I knew Clementine would start another argument.
‘Come on, Mikki,’ I said, shuffling him into the lounge. ‘We need to find out about this permit business.’
‘Can I help?’ Clementine asked.
‘Not your department!’ I scolded.
The Kingfisher Shire Council Special Event Permit Application had a squillion questions, including ones on things we had absolutely no idea about, like insurance and whether the police, road authorities, fire department and ambulance needed to be advised. And you couldn’t just make stuff up, either. You had to attach actual proof. If that wasn’t hopeless enough, the guidelines said we’d have to wait four weeks for a permit if our application was even successful.
‘I hate the council!’ I cursed. ‘Why do they ruin everything?’
Somehow Mikki was able to stay calm, even though Clementine made a point of walking past the lounge room window on her circus stilts about ten times.
‘See? This is what I have to deal with!’ I said, pointing at my impossible sister.
‘Let’s just stay focussed and submit the online form,’ Mikki said. ‘For most of the questions we can tick “not applicable”. Then … maybe we can find someone to—’
‘Need any help?’ Mum asked.
Mikki and I explained the situation to Mum, who did her best to reassure us. She knew everyone down at the council.
‘You’d be surprised at what you can achieve when you employ good manners,’ she said. ‘Let me see what I can do.’
‘That would be amazing, Mrs Bracken,’ Mikki said. ‘Thank you!’
Mikki’s eyes were full of hope but he was probably the only person in town who didn’t know about Mum’s nonsensical shoplifting problem. As far as Mikki was concerned, my mother was simply Tammy Bracken, world expert on table manners and social etiquette. If only my mother was just that!
Tammy’s Tips
#15 influencing others
People are more likely to support your cause if you listen carefully, show respect and demonstrate good manners. This is why good manners are your secret weapon to influencing others.
After submitting the permit application Mikki and I studied the instructions for the plant-music device.
‘When it arrives,’ Mikki said, ‘we need to be ready to go.’
We familiarised ourselves with all the components – a black metal box with a bunch of dials, two reels of electrical cable – one with the metal spike at the end, and one connected to a metal clamp.
‘Just like Massimo explained,’ Mikki said, ‘the device measures the electromagnetic vibration of a plant in two places – through the roots by pushing the probe into the soil and also through the plant foliage or leaves.’
My heart sank low.
‘Wait!’ I said. ‘How are we meant to get to the Memory Tree’s foliage? Its closest pine needle clusters are up about ten metres high!’
‘Uh-oh,’ said Mikki. All the hope drained from his face.
‘It’s not like I can climb a ladder with this arm!’ I said. Clementine clonked past the window again on her stilts, doing her best to be seen. ‘If only those stilts were a bit higher!’ I said.
‘Don’t look at me,’ Mikki said. ‘I’m absolutely terrified of heights.’
‘Perfect!’ I huffed, sarcastically, and slumped my head down on the table.
Then I remembered how powerful thoughts can be, and how slumped-out, head-on-a-table kind of feelings were definitely of low vibration and not at all the kind of feelings that would help. I had to perform a brain intervention, fast. I picked my head off the table and closed my eyes, imagined myself as an antennae, reaching out to the universal field of all potential.
‘What are you doing?’ Mikki asked.
‘Imagining the Memory Tree making music,’ I said. ‘You should too, Mikki.’ For the next few minutes, Mikki and I sat with our eyes closed, deep in our imaginations. I was sure I felt my heart expanding with higher vibrations. In my mind Mikki and I had already saved the forest. Yes, we had!