I walked along the wooded path today and came to my tree, majestic in her winter nakedness. Not one leaf adorned her body. I touched her broad, unmoving trunk leaning in to place a cheek against her steadfast strength. I stayed awhile until her stillness offered me the same. I leaned in until her rooted strength became my own.

I looked up and noticed her naked branches swaying in the wind. She shook and swayed as the gusts moved through her. I wouldn’t have known this unless I had gazed upwards, so still was she in the deeper parts of herself. So rooted deep into the soil that the solidness of her being held firm when in her outer parts she shook and swayed. 

I wondered about it as I watched, how she shook and moved in the wind, how she swayed this way and that and yet also remained strong and still. I wondered how I could allow the same for myself. Could I let myself be blown by unexpected gusts, to move with them, to feel them, to fully experience them, to be with what is – even when it’s a cold February wind? Could I simultaneously be still and rooted, know myself held, know myself safe in the deeper parts of my being? Could I allow life to come in all of it’s messy fullness inviting me to feel and experience it whilst remaining in rest and peace? Could I know myself always rooted and held no matter what, just as this Queen of the woods did?

I offer this meditation as a way of allowing what is, of allowing the tempest and storms of life to come, to surrender within them but at the same time to know a sense of being deeply rooted and at peace…