Hugging Trees

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved climbing trees. In front of my grandmother's house is a magnolia tree perfect for climbing. It has low limbs easy to swing up on and gnarled bark that dips and curves into natural steps. I can still safely sit on its sturdy branches or climb high into the folliage until I disappear. My brother and I spent countless summer hours swinging upside down and playing makebelieve suspended high above the ground.

Then the tree was my natural playground, but today I find an even deeper affinity for trees. It's a connection stronger than the hunger for shade on a hot summer day or delight in springime buds (both of which I feel and enjoy).

No, there is something more to trees if we look closely and see them as they really are.

They are steady. When the world around them is in chaos, on a stormy night or a blistery winter day, they are immovable. Their roots, sunk deep in the cool ground, hold them still. Their thick trunks never bend. Their branches may wave and their leaves may fall, but through it all they remain constant. There is determinance in the tree, as if it's saying "This is who I am and nothing changes that. I will stay here, and I will live and die here."

And because of this, I have a great respect for the tree. I, with my constant worrying and indecision. My ability to be persuaded by others and my fear of what is to come, the tree feels none of that. He is strong against all odds. If fate deals him a bad card, if he is lost in the shadows or scorched by the heat, he endures it with joy and peace.

I draw strength from the tree. Sitting on its natural curve, my legs and arms wrapped around its cool branch, I feel what the tree feels. My empathy with the tree reminds me to be strong, to be confident, to be sure, and to endure. And I think, how happy I would be, if I were as steady as a tree.