Starts to read Where the Crawdads Sing
writes a story about being a tree
I am a tree. I was planted in my mother's belly. She fed and watered me. I had no fertilizer. The rings I acquired happened to me through survival. Upward I grew in any direction that the environment dictated. I was grown in a pot, then on the side of a cliff, on a grassy knoll, and I was displayed for Christmas. None of them were me, I still got praise. I grew weak from all the movement, never in a place long enough to seep into.Â
One day a couple of fellow children came across me and gave me a banana peel they knew would help me grow. I slipped into uprooting myself. These things are never a conscious choice but a gentle shove that forces one to make a choice. Eminent death or become your own sequoia. I rolled to the closest spot that I thought had all the right conditions. I badly wanted to stay.Â
I found myself in my mother's garden, I grew beautiful buds for the first time. Buds I learned to loathe as not my own. I stayed there, again, growing out of survival. A habit almost. Rings happening out of my control. Awareness takes time to sink in. Rings of observation, rings of pain. I eventually caught my own glance through a mirror and saw. The choice was mine now, eminent death or become my own sequoia.
I was a sequoia this whole time, you see. I just happened to be wearing the bark of willow, oak, and birch. I am on the top of a hill, observing and collecting wisdom. Breathing in the trauma of myself and others, releasing curiosity, care, and nurturing. I am purposefully planted here. I want to penetrate the land with my peace.Â
If sequoia’s had fruit you would be one, all the things important to me are. Some of them grow bigger than others because I chose to position them closest to the sun. My branches strengthen with the weight of them, my trunk rooted. My trunk loves its fruit. Some fall from my grasp and drop to the ground. Fertilizer for the next rings that will propel me toward the sky.
Rings of observation show me to trust this process no matter how much I want to keep the fruit aloft. I need not try to juggle, instead, I allow them to fall. Every day I see more blue than the one before because of this process. It hurts a little to let go, it’s scary for sure but mostly it feels right.
It makes sense that I wouldn’t see my largest fruit at the top with me if I’m constantly looking down. Looking in horror to fix the natural way of things and not putting my trust in the process of going toward the sky. That’s where I’m going anyway, no matter where I look. With as little intervention as I can muster, I am a tree.
Business, Business, Business
You can become a paid subscriber to see exclusive content of exploration in the world of spatial design. I’m creating a methodology behind my talents and want you to be apart of the process with me. $8/month, $80/year, $240 as a founding member.
What I’m Working On This Week:
Personally: Anxiety popping off as some big feeling things are on the precipice but so grateful that I’ve been focusing on routine the past couple of weeks. When my life feels hinged upon something happening its always good to remember that tomorrow I’ll still wake up, meditate, and do yoga. Grateful for that
Art: Never have I ever written a short story? Is that what this was?
Work: Abundance vibes!!!!!
Purpose: Dude, I’ve never felt so connected to this ever in my life and like literally nothing is happening to prompt it. Big internal shift.
Events I Have Coming Up:
Yeah yeah, still haven’t done this. Gonna give grace and maybe open myself up to the option of hosting a live workshop in Des Moines. We’ll see.
Thank you so very much, you mean more to me than you know.
-Alex
'Every day I see more blue than the one before because of this process. ' LOVED.