My bond with trees grew even stronger when I connected up with David Milarch, founder of Archangel Ancient Tree Archive (AATA). Like many people, I first heard of David when I read Jim Robbin’s book The Man Who Planted Trees. Inspired by AATA’s work creating Living Tree Libraries around the world, I donated twenty-five dollars a month to the nonprofit organization. Much to my surprise, David contacted me.
Figuring David couldn’t possibly have time to talk to everyone who donated small sums, I asked him why he had emailed and then called. “Everything I do for this project is guided by archangels,” he replied, “including talking to you.”
His story of how he met up with the archangels is incredible. After growing up on a shade tree farm in Michigan, getting married, and having two sons, David had a near-death experience. While he was officially dead, he found himself in the most beautiful place imaginable, feeling musical harmonics go through his whole spirit body and watching a gorgeous sunrise. He never wanted to leave, but the archangels told him he had to go back and clone the oldest champion trees and plant them in Living Tree Libraries around the world. A champion tree is the largest specimen of its species. These mature trees are especially hardy, having endured for hundreds of years to achieve their impressive sizes. At the time of David’s vision, old trees had never been cloned before, and people told him it was impossible.
Decades ago, when David first began his mission from the archangels, it had not yet been proven that the genetics of the old champion trees were important. People asked, Why not plant any old tree? Now science has confirmed that genetics do matter; old champion trees are better able to withstand the rigors of climate change, including floods, fires, droughts, high winds, and pests.1
A recent example is the survival of the famous banyan tree in Lahaina, Maui. The devastating wildfire that struck Lahaina in 2023 completely burned down the town and was so hot that it melted metal, and yet the town’s 150-year-old banyan tree made it through and will survive. The redwoods in California’s Big Basin Redwoods State Park have also proven unexpectedly resilient. After lightning fires in 2020 torched the canopy, it looked like most of the trees were going to die. But researcher Drew M. P. Peltier and others, in an article published in the scientific journal Nature, observed that, instead, the trees used stored sugars to nourish buds that had been under their bark for centuries. Fresh growth sprouted from the blackened trunks!
Eventually, with the help of his sons, Jared and Jake, David managed to found Archangel Ancient Tree Archive. Jared was a director of AATA and board chair, and Jake helped figure out how to clone the old trees. Fortunately, when fires burned some of the precious ancient sequoias in California, they already had their clones. It is some comfort to know that trees with their hardy genetics have at least been replanted.
With redwoods, he takes cuttings from the sun needles found at the top of the over three-hundred-foot trees. Although David never shared what the archangels told him about meeting up with me, he did invite me to join him and his various teams whenever they came to Humboldt and Del Norte Counties to take clones or to be filmed. Once David’s climbing crew even took me to the top of one of the redwoods. It was quite a climb!
Twice I had mentioned to David that I would love to go up in the canopy. Then David did something I thought would never actually happen: he invited me to ascend a redwood giant. Why had I told David that I wanted to go up? I most certainly did not! It was too scary! I’m afraid of heights. Terrified, I spent the next few weeks thinking of ways to get out of it. My mind spun excuses. Maybe I could say that my tummy hurt — which it certainly did from the stress of even thinking about going up a giant redwood two or three hundred feet into the sky. Or I could use my sore shoulder as an excuse.
But I’d look like a hypocrite if I didn’t climb. Soon enough I found myself strapped into a harness and guided up the tree with AATA’s climbing crew. At the top, I was greeted by a professional climber swinging blithely in his harness. He told me I could swing too, but I declined his generous offer. Instead, I trembled and clutched a branch with one hand, wrapped the other arm around the thin trunk at the top, and kept my feet securely on the limb below. The wind whispered through the fern fronds growing in tree cavities and rocked the tree gently. I felt like an eagle roosting high in her aerie, and some slight change came over my being.
Redwood trees act like antennas, bringing in the energies from all sorts of dimensions. Different frequencies of energy are received by your different glands.
The professional climber swung around the top of the tree like a monkey while I continued to grip the branch so hard that my knuckles turned numb and white. Peering over the canopy, I looked down on a lush fern mat, tufts of verdant green epiphytes that hang from crotches between branches in the trees. Leather-leaf ferns (Polypodium scouleri) are nourished by the loamy humus soil from decomposed bark and leaves that settles into these cavities. The soil can remain there undisturbed for hundreds of years.
The ferns, together with this soil, form fern mats that can grow to be eight feet wide. Holding an astonishing amount of water — up to five thousand gallons per acre — the fern mats become a source of water for the redwoods, who grow aerial roots from their crowns right into the succulent mats so that they can suck the water up a relatively short distance instead of all the way from the ground. Insects and wandering salamanders (Aneides vagrans) are also nourished in the moist environment.
From my perch, I noticed a wandering salamander. I’d read that they feed on small, almost invisible bugs in the fern mats and may never even touch the ground. It was a heady feeling for me, quivering up at the top of the tree, imagining these creatures who never spend time on the ground — a complete lifetime in the sky.
I looked at the bright green tips of the sun needles that David and his team use to clone. Once they’ve taken the cuttings, Archangel Ancient Tree Archive gets them to their nursery as fast as possible, and puts them in a hydroponic cloning solution. When the little trees are big enough, they are then shipped to hospitable places to grow around the world. They have planted champion tree clones in the states of Oregon, Washington, and California, and in New Zealand, Ireland, Germany, and many more countries, where the ancient tree genetics now survive in Living Tree Libraries.
When I came down again, I knew I’d never be quite the same. “That was mind-blowing!” I told David. It felt so different being up there, touching the sky.
David smiled. “Redwood trees act like antennas, bringing in the energies from all sorts of dimensions. Different frequencies of energy are received by your different glands. What the pituitary is tuned into differs from what can be picked up by the adrenals.”
I nodded, thinking that, whether from the base or the crown, we have only begun our exploration of consciously communing with trees. Our human survival and that of the trees is twined together as intimately as my body hugging the redwood.
Forest Guidance
Like cats, circling around until they find their comfortable spot to lounge and purr, our bodies instinctively know where there is healing energy or kami. When you are settled on the ground, take in a few deep breaths. As you tune in more deeply, notice where you need a little more energy. It could be an organ, gland, muscle, or your big toe. Breathe into this area. Perhaps place your hands on it. Mentally ask the tree or other nature ally you are working with if she or he would like to help with your healing. For me, yes feels like a warmth in my belly, a sweetness in my heart, and a sense of expansion. On the other hand, no feels like a contraction, a tightening and shutting down. If the answer feels like a yes, open to receive. Afterward, give thanks and make an offering. This can be your gratitude, a song, prayer, or stone, water you infuse with blessing, or whatever feels right to you.
Notes
Pennisi, Elizabeth. “Rare and Ancient Trees Are Key to a Healthy Forest.” Science, January 31, 2022 and Robbins, Jim. “The Genetic Power of Ancient Trees.” Future Planet, BBC, June 28, 2022.
From Sacred Forest Bathing by Ellen Dee Davidson © 2025 Bear and Co. Printed with permission from the publisher Inner Traditions International. InnerTraditions.com.
Ellen Dee Davidson believes the forest can do more than speak to us — it can heal. In her new book Sacred Forest Bathing, she explains how reconnecting to the natural world can offer profound healing, intuitive insight, and spiritual awakening — all by reconnecting deeply with the natural world. Ellen is also the author of three children’s picture books, a middle grade fantasy book and young adult fantasy book. She lives in the redwoods of far Northern California.
Find holistic Spiritual Healing and Counseling in the Spirit of Change online Alternative Health Directory.
RELATED ARTICLES:
Trees Share Their Survival Skills
Reviving The American Chestnut: Restoring Abundance In Mid-Atlantic Forests By Planting Trees — With Kids!
Recent Comments