I watched a documentary about the Orang Rimba, a tribe in Indonesia whose very name, Rimba, means forest. True to their name, they live entirely within it, their lives woven inseparably with the trees. A newborn is given a guardian tree (Scyma sp.), while their placenta is buried beneath a Gonocaryum gracile tree—both of which can never be cut down. To violate this sacred rule is to invite the gravest punishment: nyawo ganti nyawo—life for life. Through this deep reverence, the Orang Rimba do more than inhabit the forest; they protect it, ensuring its survival as it, in turn, sustains them.

I am not Orang Rimba, but I have always felt an unspoken connection to trees, especially the tall ones. There’s something about their silent presence, their quiet endurance. They are the actual children of the sun, growing steadily toward its light, living far longer than most creatures on Earth. And though they appear still and solitary, science has confirmed what many ancient cultures already knew—trees talk to each other. Beneath the soil, their roots weave an invisible network, exchanging messages, sharing resources, warning of danger. Maybe that’s why they fascinate me. They stand in silence, but they are never truly alone.

I don’t live among trees, but I look to them—perhaps not as guardians, but as silent witnesses to my life. After watching that documentary, I wondered: If the Orang Rimba entrust their prayers to trees, why can’t I? Maybe it’s strange, but I don’t mind embracing a little strangeness.

So now, whenever I go for a run or a walk and pass by tall trees, I offer them my quiet prayers. (Of course, silently—no need to alarm passersby.) Hello, tall trees, I say in my mind. Please send these requests of mine to the mighty forces above. I want to pay off my debt. I want to live comfortably. Thank you, tall trees.

I know it sounds unusual, but debt is like a slow-growing sickness, sapping my energy, my joy. Positive affirmations help, but my mind always circles back to worry. So I send my hopes into the world in every way I can, whispering them to the trees, hoping that somehow, the universe is listening.

To anyone reading this who is also burdened by financial struggles, I send you my prayers as well. I hope that, like trees, we can endure the storms that come our way. And I hope that, one day, we will stand tall again—rooted, steady, and unshaken. Until then, let’s hold onto faith. This struggle, too, shall pass.

Karin Sabrina