I started with my own experience of becoming a mother. It instantly pulled me into a long line where I stood with my ancestors. Feeling the breath and the sight of the deceased on my back I tried to listen, but I couldn’t take my eyes from the surrounding environment. The theme of motherhood and liminality has been unraveling for me in direct contact with nature: as I am walking towards a tree, I am becoming a mother. With each step, I remember my life. With each step, I die and I am born again. Clearly, alongside the documentation, I began a certain grieving practice, or one of deep meditation and letting go. When I take a walk alone in the forest, I am never sure whether I will have the luck of finding one of them: the wisdom holders. Yet the older the forest, the more ‘disorganized’ in our human terms, the more flies and bugs and spiderwebs crash through my skin, the more likely it is that I will sooner or later land at the rootsteps of the Mother Tree.