A Tree or Not a Tree

A storm is coming

And I just bought spring shoes.

A storm is coming.

And I’m tired of shivering as I enter my car each morning.

A storm is coming.

And I am grateful.

You can see it in the murky look of the skies. You can feel it in the bitterness of the air. You can taste it in your stomach.

You can also hear about it on the news, twitter, facebook, istagram and nieghbors. 

We all run for coverage. We stock up on driveway salt and groceries. We change our plans. We plan ahead. 

We moan and cry and dread and complain. 

I do, too.

I also see the metaphor. 

I have spent a great deal of time lately, admiring the trees. I cannot tell you the difference between a maple and an oak, don’t let me mislead you and if you thought I knew where an acorn or pine cone come from, I assure you, I do not.

What I mean is that I see a tree, what it is and what it is not. For, in reality, it is not a tree. It is roots, and a trunk, branches and leaves. It is the sunshine it eats and the rain that quenches it’s thirst. It is the tree-cutters, who let it live, and the worms who fertile it’s soil. It is the men and women who recycle their plastics and the birdies who trust them with their young. 

When the storm comes, the branches waver. Leave my fall, twigs may snap. The “tree” is now down a branch or two: transformed. 

It is still a tree. It is still not a tree. It is still roots, a trunk, branches, the sun, the animals, the you, and the me. 

As long as the roots are well rooted, as long as it is grounded, as long as it’s center is well-known, and its branches determinedly reaching upward, it will stand. 

It will stand through the storm.

The storm reminds the tree of it’s nature. 

We, the people, are trees.

(We are really) but if you’d prefer to accept this as a metaphor, that works, too.

You may live most days thinking, “I am just Jaime. I get on the train. I go to the store. I come home. I sleep.”

You may live some days thinking, “I just want to give up. What am I here for? Why is this happening to me?”

When the storm comes, you forget for a minute. You forget, but only to worry about the storm.

I ask you to embrace it. 

Know that you are a tree and the storm is an awakening, a reminder. 

No matter what comes along your path in life, if you are grounded and rooted in your beliefs, you will not falter. If you find your center and it burns with your soul, you will stand strong. If you look up above and can see a bit of life, towards which you spread your branches, you will continue to grow and transform. 

And, amongst you, there are many trees. 

Some may fall, yes, and many are different shapes and sizes, but we are all feeding from the same soil and yearning for the same light. 

A storm is a very real way of feeling our branches shake and it may be scary and it may be liberating, but it is there to teach us something. 

I look forward to embracing this storm and sharing flowers come spring. 

www.byhappiness.org