Sunday morning instead of sitting in a pew I walked among a cathedral of trees. I walked paths that so many have walked before me and fell deeper in love with “my forest”. Technically it’s not actually my forest as it’s open to the public, but in my soul it’s mine. This irrational thinking could be why I get annoyed when other people have the audacity to visit my forest at the same time I do. I’m all for people getting outside and enjoying the forest, but would like them to do it when I’m not there. Is that really too much to ask? lol.

As I was walking in the forest on Sunday I came upon what I would call a grandmother tree. I’ve included a picture of the particular tree below. Grandmother trees are those tall and sturdy trees that look like they have stood through many a storm and come out the other side stronger and with a lot of wisdom to share. They have been through some shit and survived. They are examples of resilience. This grandmother tree had a waterfall of interconnected branches towards the top of her. I was struck by it Sunday and have thought about that waterfall of branches many times since.

At first, the waterfall reminded me of how interconnected we all are. Each of the branches represented a person to me and was a tangible reminder of how we are all woven together and how we need to be woven together with people to survive and thrive in this world. As the days have gone on and I have returned to this picture, I have been struck by how messy this waterfall of branches is. This waterfall looks messy. There’s branches on top of one another, branches that are smaller than others, branches that curl in different ways than others do, etc. It is chaotic, it is raw, it is messy, and it’s also beautiful.

As humans we can also be chaotic, messy, and raw, but rarely do we add the word beautiful after any of those words. As a culture we don’t celebrate finding beauty in that which is messy. We celebrate cleaning up the mess, hiding the mess, ignoring the mess, not talking about the mess, etc. We don’t celebrate owning the mess, learning from the mess, and/or finding beauty in the mess. What if we took our cues from nature and proudly displayed our chaotic, raw, and messy sleeves. What if we allowed people to really see us, all of us, not just the parts we like or we think others will like. What would happen if we accepted and celebrated the messy parts of our selves. The parts that aren’t perfectly put together, aren’t easy to see, aren’t sunshine and rainbows.

We all have parts of ourselves that are messy and chaotic and how would it change how we feel about ourselves if like nature we celebrated those things and as Jimmy Hendrix said we, “let our freak flag fly.”

The next time you’re inclined to change what you were going to say to make someone more comfortable, stop and say what you need to say not what you think you’re supposed to say. The next time you’re inclined to make your day, life, and/or self seem like you’re doing ok when you’re not, stop, be honest, and say, “I am not ok.” The next time you’re inclined to put on the mask and cover up any part of your self or your life that you feel is chaotic and/or messy, stop, put the mask down, and just be you.

Nature doesn’t mask its chaos, it’s continued growth, or the struggles/storms it’s gone through.. may that be a lesson for us.

From time to time I write poetry and here’s a poem I wrote following my Sunday forest trip. Fair warning: I am not Mary Oliver, Andrea Gibson, and/or any other profoundly gifted poet you may have read before. I am just a girl who connects deeply with all parts of life, especially nature, and enjoys putting paper to pen.

“Returning Home”

The grass underneath my feet welcomes me with the spirits of all those who have walked this path before me. 

They walk with me, beside me, and within me. 

Their journey is my journey. 

The trees welcome me with their branches out stretched towards the forest floor as if they are saying hi to an old friend.

I hear the prairie grass’s welcome as it sways in the breeze. 

The woodpecker in the distance pecks out his welcome on the bark of one of my beloved trees. 

The knots he leaves behind serve as a reminder that all living things speak. 

The grandmother tree, tall and wise, envelopes me with her wisdom and her knotted branches remind me we are all connected. 

I am nature and nature is me 

As I leave the forest I whisper “I’ll be back home soon, dear friends.”