With unrelenting bad news of variants, school shootings, and the erosion of fundamental rights, I looked for solace in the crowns of trees. In the sound of children shrieking in the park, for joy, not fear. In holiday lights. In cuddles with Ollie on the couch. In wine with friends and family.
We need rest
We need rest. We need to restore ourselves, to acknowledge that we are bare and broken and to take time to breathe and bend in the wind. This season strips everything away and then covers us in darkness.
Too often I try to hold the world together with my mind, as though my unrelenting attention will somehow pull us back from the brink.
Our leaves will return
The world goes on, regardless, and I’m useless to it if I’m a leaf, scattered on the wind. We are not the leaves. We are the graceful, arching, scarred, trees. Our leaves will return.
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