{On January 2nd of this year I wrote...}
I have tried, for days to UN-choose the word TREE as my word of the year.
Alas.
It seems that TREE has chosen me.
I can't get enough of them. Of looking at them. Wondering about them. Marveling. I love this time of year when the branches are bare. When I can see the outstretched limbs...the strength of the trunk. The delicate, intricate, interdependent branches. It is in this state that a tree seems most alive to me. Like it's doing all it's hard work now. Quietly. Underground, behind the scenes....because that's just what it does.
Yes, TREE has chosen me.
It's not a very active word. I kept thinking I could go with something like "rooted" or "branch out" or "reach" ... but none of those words said it all.
I want to learn from the TREES.
I want to nourish my roots. Nourish the deepest, most essential parts of myself.
Spiritually, emotionally and physically.
Spiritually, emotionally and physically.
I want to go out on some limbs.
I want to bloom where I'm planted.
I want to weather the seasons.
I want to provide a nesting place for those I love.
I want to bend without breaking.
I want to learn from the TREES.
As this year draws to a close, and the trees are, yet again, beautifully exposed....I have a full heart. I don't think I've ever looked back at something I wrote at the beginning of a year and felt that every word of it was fulfilled in the year that transpired. I'm astounded. It's as if I wrote the words as the year ended to describe the year that was. There has been nourishment - deep and new and oh-so-good! The limbs looked more like really tall rocks...but challenge myself, I did. Seasons have been weathered...though none were harsh, no winds bent me to near breaking. I continue to love our home and the family we've built is a haven. I'm at peace with where I'm planted, and look forward to more blooming and limb climbing as the new year dawns!
Of all the lessons I gleaned from paying attention to the trees this year, I most enjoyed watching how their differences work together to create the beautiful scenery we cherish. Each tree budding, blooming and changing color at their own pace....no comparing to the tree next to themselves. No hurrying up or keeping up. With all the different kinds of trees, there is no discord or competition. Instead, each does their part, and the natural harmony colors our world. Patience, acceptance and playing our part....these are virtues to which we can all aspire!
As this year draws to a close, and the trees are, yet again, beautifully exposed....I have a full heart. I don't think I've ever looked back at something I wrote at the beginning of a year and felt that every word of it was fulfilled in the year that transpired. I'm astounded. It's as if I wrote the words as the year ended to describe the year that was. There has been nourishment - deep and new and oh-so-good! The limbs looked more like really tall rocks...but challenge myself, I did. Seasons have been weathered...though none were harsh, no winds bent me to near breaking. I continue to love our home and the family we've built is a haven. I'm at peace with where I'm planted, and look forward to more blooming and limb climbing as the new year dawns!
Of all the lessons I gleaned from paying attention to the trees this year, I most enjoyed watching how their differences work together to create the beautiful scenery we cherish. Each tree budding, blooming and changing color at their own pace....no comparing to the tree next to themselves. No hurrying up or keeping up. With all the different kinds of trees, there is no discord or competition. Instead, each does their part, and the natural harmony colors our world. Patience, acceptance and playing our part....these are virtues to which we can all aspire!
"I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree."
Joyce Kilmer, 1914
Stay tuned...working on choosing a word for 2015. How about you?
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