Not only have my roots been fastened and secured, but my life has been spared. More often than not, out of my wounds have sprung blossoms, leaves, seedlings and vines. From where my branches had been broken, came chutes baring twice as many limbs and sprouts, those are young and green, with soft ripe skin, not cragged, brown polloped, craggy old bark.
The chain link fence that at first seemed impassable, became part of my trunk. A piece of it is now woven through me. It helps to strengthen the fiber of my core. The rest of the fence was cut away long ago.
I’ve already spun all those toxic fumes into breathable air. That’s one of my gifts, I turn poison into oxygen. I’m settled next to an open field, by the side of a road where you can stop and share.
My leaves can be pressed into books for keepsake, or rubbed with charcoal to see what the imprint looks like. My fruit can be savored when you need something sweet or add to the carpet of humous when it falls from decay. My dried out old twigs can be kindling for a fire, or framing a nest. My shade can cool you on the hottest days. Even my seed pods can become a costume when properly affixed to your nose.
I am an entire ecosystem now.
Use my lessons as yours as you discover how pliant is your own timber, how abundant are the rings at your own core. Any way you can think of that I can be used, I am more than satisfied at your service.
Rob Brezsny’s weekly newsletter features excerpts from his book, PRONOIA IS THE ANTIDOTE FOR PARANOIA. I wrote this piece inspired by Luminous Tease which can be found here.
Thank you for sharing!
Lovely.