My Tree of Life

At the beginning of May 2016, I began a project of consciously looking for beauty every day. And I started taking pictures of what I found.  It began with flowers, but then included rocks, trees, garbage, clouds, snow...basically anything that struck me as beautiful.  Although I don't always take and share photos daily anymore, not a day goes by that I am not touched by something beautiful.  Not a day goes by that the world doesn't remind me of how incredibly connected we all are.  Not a day goes by that I don't feel peace and love, at least for a moment.  

This beauty teaches me on a daily basis.  Last Christmas I created this as part of a gift, combining what I learned from the trees with some of my favorite pictures of them.

Unashamed of her need for rest, she dons her red dress and boldly declares, "I will return!" 

Shedding all she can no longer sustain, another beauty is revealed, a deeper beauty born of scars and her twisting, turning, and stretching towards the light.   

Though her own reach is limited, her influence does not end where she does.   

Millions of them tried to cover her, tried to hide the soul she had revealed.  But they didn't realize that as she held them gently, they only accentuated her stark beauty.  

I fell in love with them in the fall, learning to love the color brown for the first time in my life.  There are so many more lovely shades of brown than show up in your 8 pack of Crayons.  But what I saw during the winter is what shocked me the most.  It was hard to believe at first, but my beloved trees were even more beautiful bare.  I almost dreaded spring coming and the leaves covering up the beauty I had learned to look for in the winter.

But spring did come, and the buds and blossoms so entranced me that I almost forgot about my lovely bare trees.

And then life got really hard.  I didn't have the time or energy for getting up close and personal with my trees, but one tree decided that she wasn't going to let me miss my daily beauty.  She stands outside my kitchen window where I do my morning ritual of breathing and movement meditation. And when I'm sitting on my couch working at the computer or reading, I only need to turn my head left to see her perfectly framed in my living room window.

Here's the thing:  She's never trying to get me to look at her. She's a beautiful tree, for sure, but she's not trying to get me to see that.  She's asking me to see what is around her, drawing my attention in her direction so that I can the abundance of life and beauty around her.  When I first moved here, I thought I had windows that looked out on a parking lot.  I saw more asphalt than beauty.  My tree shows me so much more.

I see my neighbors.  I see birds.  I see squirrels and rabbits.  I see the gentle breeze moving through the trees.  

I see shadows and reflections.  

I see clouds and blue skies.

I see stunning sunrises.   

And in those moments, I know that we are all connected, that we are all part of a magnificent whole.  


I see a world that doesn't change.  There is always asphalt, and the tree still stands in the same place.  

And I see a world that is constantly changing.

Not long ago, I was looking at pictures of the tree and was reminded of the tree of life.  It occurred to me that she is my tree of life.  The tree of life is present in many mythologies and religions, both ancient and contemporary.  It is wisdom, enlightenment, strength, and connection to ancestors.  It is the connection between heaven and earth.  It is the source of life and breath.  It is the love of God.  

It is all these and more for me.  My tree is grounding.  My tree is stability.  She is peace.  She brings awe and focus.  She reminds me of all the wonder and hope and possibility in the world, when all I could see without her was pain and despair.  

She gives me life.  She is my tree of life.