Make Me Like a Tree.


We can only pour out that which we are full of, so it is important to reflect and fill up on what fuels our best-selves, often.

The most restorative place for me to go is nature; living in the valley of the sun, there aren’t many lush, green spots locally, but my favorite park appears out nowhere like a secret wonderland.

Going to the park allows me the space to reflect on myself, relax in the sunshine, read, work and write. It’s what you might call my happy place. I spend a few hours, and leave so refreshed—like a mini vacation.

And that’s a crucial aspect of our wellbeing: to have that sacred space that lifts us out of our day-to-day, giving us space to clear our minds, inspire us and restore our souls.


This week I came across this amazing tree shaped just like a back, setup camp with my blanket, books (Paths Beyond Ego—The Transpersonal Vision and Ra: The Law of One), journals and a nice warm chai—and was inspired to scribble some prose about the wise old tree in front of me.


The leaves don’t drop like lead to the ground; they aren’t ripped away—

She lets them go, one-by-one.

She waits for the perfect breeze to blow that flawless direction,

She bends into the flow—into the new path of life, and she lets them go.

She doesn’t try to stop them, beg them to stay;

She doesn’t resist. She drops them.

From the ground on which they fall she will rise again in full bloom.

Sometimes the wind blows hard, and sometimes soft—but it always blows.

To cling to them, they would become brittle, dry, dead, stale.

Feeling the wind; she sets fire to the leaves of life once they no longer serve her—

And in that fire she is free to transmute them.

Come spring she will rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

But she’s not afraid of the emptiness, the no-thingness, the vast, open space.

She understands that the void gives birth in time; it is the fertile ground of all potential.

She recognizes the intertwinement of death giving way to life. 

If she allows she will die many times in this life;

If only she surrenders to the calling of the seasons.



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