Not just my thoughts, as leaves at the mercy of wind and rain or snow, who tumble and lift and twist but will not release from my branch. Sometimes bright green or vibrant or not at all.
Not just my desires as branches solid yet pliable and willing, lifting and sagging, bending with that wind and that rain. Sometimes breaking in dispare from a storm or the weight of snow.
Not just my body as a trunk, the years adding in rings, the bark hardening and becoming brittle. Sometimes eaten or pecked at devoured or decayed.
Not just my heart as roots wound and thick, outstretched, breaking the hardened soil and grounding me to the earth. Sometimes cut or pruned from negativity, making them turn and curl like toes grasping for the moment.
No. I am the tree, solid and tall, whole in all seasons and all weather.
The darkness of my fear and confusion overshadowing me, filling me with loss and defeat. Hopelessly I weep, crumpled to the floor calling out to whomever will bother to listen to my sad story, my confusion. Calling to you to help me.
Make me aware of your presence as you enter my room. Silky, warm glimmer of white and gold a speck, but then growing, expanding, to a beam, making me lift my gaze just a bit.
Make me aware of your presence as you move closer to me. Feeling the warmth of your body as it nears mine. Your strength, your determination, your focus, making me breathe just a little deeper and begin to lift my head as I realize now that I am not alone. I am not abandoned. There is hope.
Make me aware of your presence as you gently touch my shoulder and place your hand on my back. You are so close now. I can feel your breath. It makes me want to breathe. It makes me want to be here. To see what I need to see. To dive deep into my fears so that I can cast them away.
Make me aware of your presence as you reach under my knees and lift me. Your exhale strong and quick, your power melting me into your arms, I feel my body rise from the depths of my own hell. My muck. My mud of self-imposed torture.
Make me aware of your presence as you take your first stride. Your rhythm and harmony rocking me to a quiet, peaceful moment as we move from my darkness. The room fills with light, my thoughts much clearer now. My heart swelling with love as I feel your grace fall upon me.
Make me aware of your presence as we exit the room. Your body melting away as I begin to stand on my own. Your essence still with me as sparkles in my heart. Each one reminding me of the love and strength that I felt. Each one reminding me of the truth. There is no room. There is only Love.
Many, many years ago I had a friend who used to refer to me as “She who calls the wind”. The title came about because I not only welcomed change, but navigated it quite easily. I had a sense of direction in my life.
This past year the wind wasn’t a gentle breeze or even a hearty gust. It was a vortex, a tornado. We were all tossed about like the cow in the movie Twister, just circling, trying to hold itself upright.
I still have my hopes and dreams and I have a sense of where I’m headed but not with the certainty of the past. Not with the visible assurance of the snow on these trees. You know where the wind came from and you know where it went. Maybe I will find myself in the cold of winter. In the icy layer of snow that covers my bark and lets me see what I could not sense. Maybe I will know the direction of the wind.