As we look around, what do we see? Fields, fences, trees, sheep? When I saw this tree today, I heard its thoughts. “The illusion’s too good. It’s so ingrained that few will ever see, ever understand, that I’m me, not you and although I see you, you do not see me – only you.” And day after day, restrained by safety, observing, analysing, hiding, complying, mimicking, denying, controlling; it grows more fatigued, exhausted, burnt-out.
I shout: ‘You’re not an evergreen, stop trying.” And as realisation dawns, the mist retreats, fatigue fades and old dormant memories, urges, and rituals begin to emerge. The tree is remembering that the winter will pass, wounds will heal, buds will form, and that its canopy, its greenery, its own unique character, will inevitably develop and flourish.