The seed of suffering, the tree of suffering. Big, strong, non-bending. Gnarly and ugly and yet the dank darkness it cast was a strange comfort to me. I watered that tree so much and then cursed it’s shadow…
…until I didn’t.
The tree of resentment is old. I grew up with it. It and I have an understanding you see. Oh, I know hiding in the tree’s cold, damp shadow is uncomfortable, but my eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness. My body has grown accustomed to the tension. My mind was consumed with the story that I didn’t deserve “it.” All those things that happened to me. I leaned into that tree, counted on it to support that I was right and “they” were wrong. It was a horrible place to live, yet, somehow I felt comfortable there. It was what I knew. It came naturally…
…until it didn’t.
There, beside the tree is a tiny, teeny bit of green. Trying to push up through the dirt, through the dank, damp darkness. Once I noticed it was there, I couldn’t help but see it all the time…struggling to survive. I had nothing to give it. It was on it’s own as I had all I could handle with my own “stuff”. Yet, it continued to call me and finally I mustered up a droplet, an eyedropper dripping one drop at a time, or were those tears watering the little seed of hope? It would be easier to continue to water the tree of suffering. I have buckets of material to feed the tree of suffering…
…until I didn’t.
The process was slow as I could only muster the smallest particle of gratitude at a time. Sometimes I found only one drop for the seed of love yet gradually, I’m not sure where, but I found another one or two for the seed of forgiveness. I continued to acknowledge the tree of suffering. It always looms large and I cannot deny its existence. But as my attention shifts to the seeds of gratitude, the leaves are beginning to wilt and fall on that big strong tree. As the leaves fall, it is not so dank, damp and dark underneath. Specks of light are filtering through and are reflected back to me by the shiny new leaves on the saplings of love. I didn’t know I could find so much joy…
…until I did.
…until I didn’t.
The tree of resentment is old. I grew up with it. It and I have an understanding you see. Oh, I know hiding in the tree’s cold, damp shadow is uncomfortable, but my eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness. My body has grown accustomed to the tension. My mind was consumed with the story that I didn’t deserve “it.” All those things that happened to me. I leaned into that tree, counted on it to support that I was right and “they” were wrong. It was a horrible place to live, yet, somehow I felt comfortable there. It was what I knew. It came naturally…
…until it didn’t.
There, beside the tree is a tiny, teeny bit of green. Trying to push up through the dirt, through the dank, damp darkness. Once I noticed it was there, I couldn’t help but see it all the time…struggling to survive. I had nothing to give it. It was on it’s own as I had all I could handle with my own “stuff”. Yet, it continued to call me and finally I mustered up a droplet, an eyedropper dripping one drop at a time, or were those tears watering the little seed of hope? It would be easier to continue to water the tree of suffering. I have buckets of material to feed the tree of suffering…
…until I didn’t.
The process was slow as I could only muster the smallest particle of gratitude at a time. Sometimes I found only one drop for the seed of love yet gradually, I’m not sure where, but I found another one or two for the seed of forgiveness. I continued to acknowledge the tree of suffering. It always looms large and I cannot deny its existence. But as my attention shifts to the seeds of gratitude, the leaves are beginning to wilt and fall on that big strong tree. As the leaves fall, it is not so dank, damp and dark underneath. Specks of light are filtering through and are reflected back to me by the shiny new leaves on the saplings of love. I didn’t know I could find so much joy…
…until I did.
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