When Trees Speak

I was not built for cold weather, and I do not do well when temps fall below 65℉ approach freezing. So this week, as I have scraped ice off my windshield and watched big, fat, fluffy snowflakes fall from the sky, I have tried to remind myself to be grateful for the unseasonably warm weather we had earlier this month and the lovely afternoon walks I took. As I looked back at my pictures from those walks--because, yes, I take pictures even when I'm just walking in my own neighborhood, past sights I've seen countless times--I noticed how many pictures of trees I had. But not just any trees. I mainly had pictures of twisted, gnarly, crazy trees, in a state of dormancy. It's not that I don't appreciate straight, lovely trees that reach right up to the sky according to the secret Tree Code that tells them that is just what they are supposed to do. It's just that the wonky trees were the most fascinating and photo-worthy, the most interesting to observe. I went in for closer looks and better camera shots and couldn't help but notice that, without exception, the most interesting trees were the ones which had most likely sustained some damage. Maybe they had been hit by lightning or had been shaped or broken by strong winds or had developed diseases or had received injuries at the hands of humans. The mangled trees all have difficult stories, and they are all over-comers. As trauma came upon them, they had to adjust. They had to give up the code that says what a tree is "supposed" to be and just go on growing the best they could under the circumstances. They found ways to heal themselves and to continue standing. And now, the trauma they once experienced is what makes them so beautiful. 

I understand what it's like to be one of these trees. I have always lived with internal and external rules that prescribe what I am "supposed" to be and what my life is "supposed" to look like. And, as a recovering people pleaser and perfectionist, I have tried very hard to live up to the sometimes impossible expectations coming from within and from without. I have grieved all the traumas that have twisted and scarred and broken me and made it impossible for me to live out the code I had in my head of what I thought I was "supposed" to be. BUT, I'm figuring out ways to heal myself, and I'm still standing. I'm continuing to grow the best I can under the circumstances, and it could be argued that I'm more interesting and beautiful now than I've ever been. 

When you get close to trees, they will whisper secrets to you if you are patient and quiet enough to listen. And what I learned from the trees is that there is no one way that trees--or humans--are "supposed" to be. The real code actually states to just keep growing no matter how many traumas you face. Just. Keep. Growing. If it's straight and tall, fine. But if it's twisted and gnarled and broken, that's okay too.