Mother

Mother

There is a tree I know, a weeping beech tree. She is mature, tall and gnarled. Her trunk has a spot in which I can climb up and rest myself, cradled in her arms. One day while communing with her I realized that I am very much like her.

I am rooted deeply in the Earth. I gain my strength from digging deep into the Earth with my roots, deep into the Unconscious. I soar to great heights. Reaching high into the sky, into the world, growing taller every year. I have many branches, stretching out in all directions, reaching out to embrace the Light. My branches are also grounded, rooted into the Earth, keeping me grounded and secure.

I provide shelter and shade to those seeking comfort. I am bumpy and knobby, twisted and misshapen, scarred from years of surviving storms. I am beautiful in all of my perfect imperfections. And no matter how tall I grow, how far I reach, even my top most branch looks down to secure itself a Connection. The peak does not disappear into the sky. It bends down, and grows back over and into itself, like a mother bending down to cradle a child. My trunk is full of nooks and pockets where rain can collect to provide nourishment and treasure can be hidden.

I am full of secrets waiting to be discovered. I am full bodied, tall and strong, soft and curvy, hard and weathered. I am gloriously Real and I revel in the knowledge of my own Being.