It’s the time of year where I feel most ripe with ideas and possibilities and promises. At the same time I feel least motivated to do anything about it. Yea, unfortunate combination. It is, by definition, the experience of “stuck”. Which sucks. But it’s more than that. With all those thoughts and ideas and inspirations I’ve got brewing inside me with no definitive or sustained action , it’s actually more like constipation.
Which really sucks.
But thanks to my clients this week, I was reminded (repeatedly) of a metaphor that helps during this time. One that “normalizes” me in this time of year (and this part of my cycle of creativity), and offers me a seed of hope.
Trees. And sap.
My clients have referred to trees all week – being them, resonating with them, taking solace from them, feeling like one, wishing they were one. Up here in Maine, they are pretty hard to miss this time of year. They stand like stark naked sculptures, most of them large and looming, black against a steel gray or cool blue sky. They stand still. Just watching. Waiting patiently. Timeless and trusted. One of my clients call the trees in her area “sentries” because she feels as if they are there for her, guarding and honoring the ancient wisdom they know lives within her. Even when she forgets.
Especially when she forgets. Like I did today.
But then I had this moment in my car this morning when it all kind of clicked together in my head. So I captured it for you. And me. Nothing glamorous (you know me better…), and nothing prepared. Hell, I hadn’t even had a shower yet. Just some heart-felt food for thought with a generous pinch of vulnerability to make it go down a bit easier.
From one tree to another. Here’s to waiting for our sap to run with a bit more grace.