In knowing, what grows beside you as tendrils from your stem, your root. Maybe something from the past. A relationship, or wrong doing or mistreatment. They grow out of you and share your soil, your nourishment, and your light. Only when you become aware of those shoots, can you choose not to feed them. Only when you become aware of their life tangled and intermingled with your roots, can you choose to discard them.
Even then, even when you choose to slay their gnarled intrusion, even then, you still may not be aware that this life is just a small part of who you are.
Your task is to know this and grow. Because when your roots are fairly set, you can reach and grow no matter what the past brought, or what the future will bring.
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.
Lillies reflecting blue sky and warm breeze. A tree that bends and grows, still full of life, foliage young and healthy, reaching out over the water, horizontal and not quite ready to reach and touch the sky like the others, yet it is a resting place for those weary of the effort to continue to swim and search.
There was this tree. It was not damaged at all. It was growing out over the water with its limbs reaching up to the sky, full and healthy as if some magical part of it was below the water’s surface in triangle pose. As I got closer to it I realized that there were ducks relaxing on the trunk. It was a very strange scene yet right now, for me, very normal!
Sometimes we take a huge leap, an unimaginable gamble, because we believe in ourselves. We know that somehow our desires will be met even though our loved ones think we’re fools because there is no reason to think otherwise.
Sometimes we try something new, so new that we’re not even sure how to navigate it.
Sometimes we choose to grow out over the water instead of straight up like everyone else and still we thrive enough to offer shelter to those in need, and sometimes our leap is appreciated even though it might be seen as unconventional as ducks in a tree.
chirps of cardinals, wind pushing cool air onto my cheek rosy with frost, fresh and tingling almost burning, my steps rhythmic crunching and crunching as I move forward in my desire, the desire to change the landscape of my life from frost to mud, then warm sun, golden
Out of the frost I move with conviction to change.
I’ve been making hats big, small, different colors and patterns. They’re crocheted around and constructed from the inside out so that I’m making a bowl that just keeps getting bigger. They’re awful but I can’t stop making them. It’s something about the process, the circle round or the fact that it’s a bowl I’m not sure but I keep showing up at family member’s homes announcing that I’ve arrived with another bag full of ill-fitting hats. Maybe it is a way for me to start a new year, a new ring around my life.
Crunchy steps under spiked boots on mud and ice. Slow drops on branch tips unable to decide if they were liquid or solid. Rain and 37 degrees making wet clothes from the rain and from the sweat. Raw wind as welcome relief from my body overheating, yet the air was fresh. The forest’s exhale was a gift. Despite the unpleasant conditions, the externals, the air brought me to the moment. The perfect moment when my sweaty body was refreshed. The misty raw air, hitting my face was wet and wild and alive, and I was free from that which was unpleasant.
May this year bring you the freedom to be wet and wild and alive and not be pulled out of that beautiful moment by externals.
My breath labored. Yesterdays footprints taken by the wind. Sun heightening snows colors as crystals of blue, and purple, and an occasional red.
It was just an ordinary day but it wasn’t because I was not in the office. Instead, I was hiking, as I wish I could always be. There before me was the most wonderful moment, quiet except for my breath and the wind clanking frozen tree branches like windchimes. In that moment I closed my eyes and became one with the land, happily, no presents, no pressure to get it right or be right, the best holiday ever.