the giving tree

I am immersed in an intense challenge/opportunity these days which is consuming lots of my attention. An arrangement that I thought was a sure thing has collapsed. Silly of me, I know, to have slipped back into believing anything in life could actually be a SURE thing! How perfectly human of me.

Of course in the back of my mind I knew all along that the deal could go south, and I do believe that this change is part of a benevolent conspiracy on my behalf, but in the meantime, a massive leap of faith seems to be required of me. And I am having varying degrees of success mustering up the courage to jump. I keep wanting to force a solution so I can relax; tie it all up neatly in a bundle with a pretty bow and know just how it will all turn out.

As I say to my clients sometimes: good luck with that!

today I went googling for visual inspiration, and look what showed up:

the mighty and massive redwood tree

begins as this tiny little seedling (photo by Mark M. Mills)


... a more than adequate reminder that miracles happen every day, and that sometimes they require time to manifest in full splendor. The spirit of the redwood sings to me, "Patience, my child. Patience."

When I grow up, I want to be a tree. Mostly because all they do is just stay in one place and be themselves, and everything they need to grow and thrive comes to them. They don't have to go out and peruse the want ads for rain or sun or soil. They grow stronger through adversity - the more they learn to surrender to the force and direction of the wind, the stronger and more resilient they become.

Trees appear to die each winter, but it is just an illusion. There is life within them despite all indications to the contrary. When the conditions are proper, Life will come out from its hiding place and reveal itself again in brilliant green, tightly wound buds of pure potential.

Leaves grow and die and fall, and the tree does not kick and scream or argue or try to hold on to them - it must know somewhere deep in its roots that there will be more to come. The whole tree benefits from a good pruning; cutting away the limbs that are less than healthy strengthens the remaining branches.

And when its natural life cycle is finished, it offers its physical body as a contribution; becoming a home for other creatures, and eventually food for other living things. At every stage of its life, its individual existence is a gift to the magnificent Whole.

I wonder sometimes if it might possibly be that simple for me, too, if my mind and fears and control tactics did not get in the way and inhibit the natural flowing of life through me ...

imagine what would happen to the tree if it could think that it might make a mistake, or if it decided to manage its growth process by mapping out an action plan. could it ever hope to duplicate the perfection of the blueprint nature has painstakingly included in every cell of its being?

How likely is it that I was born less well equipped than a tree ... that my cells could lack the required information to support a perfect unfolding of my own life? Maybe I will just go sit in the sun for a while this afternoon and see what happens ...