Roots

Post #22

I walk with the trees as their colors change from green to yellow or orange or red and sometimes both or all at once. A harvest celebration as their seeds begin to fall, nurturing the birds and squirrels and hopefully seeding the next generation. I ask the tree, what’s it like to burn with a brilliant flame and suddenly be noticed for your beauty?

I walk with the trees as the north winds blow and their beautiful leaves are laid into a carpet on the ground. I ask the tree, what’s it like to suddenly be naked, exposed, and bare? Do you grieve the leaves that fall? Do you welcome the rest of winter?

I walk with the trees and I tell them of my sorrows, of my loss, of my fears. I tell them how I am so often afraid of being seen, of what I will lose, of changing. I ask the trees, are you fearful when the storms blow and the ice comes?

The trees answer like a choir, a unison of complimentary voices. Their music is slow, resonant and deep in my ears: We are true to our roots.

In our roots we are as we ever were. Where you see change we know we are simply showing different parts of ourselves. We have always known how to provide shade, change colors and let it all go. In our roots we know our place in the circle of life.

Our community sustains us when the north winds blow. The touch of feathers and fur on our skin reminds us we are still alive. We sing the songs of winter and we rest until it is time to sing the songs of spring.

I ask the trees, how do I find this kind of peace? The trees answer: Remember your roots.

************************

I’d love to hear about your roots in the comments, about the things that ground you and sustain you through the storms and winters of life.

Adding some photos of the beautiful trees and leaves from the past week. It’s fun to try and catch falling leaves in the camera but it’s so much harder than it looks!

Caught one!

Caught another one!

This one sits in front of my house, one of the last to turn and last to fall.