The Stories that we Believe Shape Us.

"What shape waits in the seed of you,
to grow and spread its branches
​ against a future sky?"
- David Whyte.
​

Michelle and General Sherman, largest living tree. Photo Credit Illup Gravengaard

I have been moved by a deeply touching reminder of my own roots that has been reflected to me by our Tree Beings standing tall, reaching wide, growing through rock, swaying with the winds, giving us breath. This life is blessed.  I have also been shown my story, and how it can shape, or hinder if we grow too attached to the form. 

​It is not about the details of our stories, but what was awakened within us within these stories.  The unchanging Divine spark that takes whatever form is needed to bring us into a state of remembrance of the truth of who we are. 

It is very easy to get stuck in story lines.  It is these very narratives, even the most beautiful ones might I add, that can keep us from expanding into the ever present beauty of who we truly are. 

I have stories.  I got lots of them.  We all do.  Many of mine that I have been attached to  in the past are connected to synchronicity and Spirit moving through events that feel magical and touched.  I used to be so attached to these stories.  So formed by them.  Until I was not. 

When I was younger, I found a great deal of solace in nature, and with horses.  I remember running around barefoot, and have the scars to prove it from my barefoot swamp romps and tree climbs.  Nature embraced me.  I would sit under two pine trees in my back yard, lean my little body up against them, and look up and watch the wind tickle their needles and give them a maternal sway.  I loved the earth and how it smelled, moved, and had the same affinity for horses.   Tree medicine was a resident root in my life. 

In college, I would sit outside my dorm room, and lean up against the big oak tree outside.  I'd give it offerings. I'd offer it my breath.  I'd sit with this tree and ask it to help me compost old energies.  The other kids thought me to be a little out there, I didn't care. 

Now, I take people out on the land, and invite them to connect with a few of my favorite tree teachers of the valley.  The trees reflect so much for these people.  They are constantly speaking.  

Last night, I had a moment of deep remembrance with the tree people.  I had put on a new album by Ayla Nereo on that I had not yet heard much of while taking a shower.  This song "Whispers" came on.  It speaks deeply of the tree people and their offering.  You can hear it here.

This song hit me deep in the heart.  I began to cry and feel so deeply that connection to the tree spirits, and how much they have held me throughout my journey.   Images moved through my mind, of all the trees I had taken pictures of recently, and tree quotes that caught my eye, messages about seeds, growing, shapes, and roots.  This past week I had been looking at all my old tree pictures, as well as my time Peru.  It all poured through me.  Such blessed gratitude for these vessels of breath and reflection.   I felt how these beings, and my connection to them had become such a big part of my personal mythology and storyline.  I've had my flower essence company which is taking a break right now, my journey in Peru with the plant medicines and the curanderos, and the story goes on.  

Story after story, of a deep, abiding, Presence that enters my heart through my connection to Nature. 

Beyond the story, is the essence.  The Divine Presence that moves through ALL things.  

Beyond the story, is the truth, that the Divine that I am, that lives within me, will meet me wherever I choose to meet it or even more accurately, get quiet enough to perceive and receive it.  

If it were about the story, then I would think I better get outside and talk to the trees more so I can access the Divine.  Now, I know that is simply not what is true for me, there is no 'one' way.  The Divine found me in the shower through that song last night, because I received it.  The Divine has found me through moments when I have been on my hands and knees grieving an old life.  The Divine has found me in churches.  The Divine has found me in meditation.  The Divine has not just found me, the Divine is always here. 

Always here.  All ways.  We can be reached if we are open enough to receive what is always there. 

If I look around at my life, at all the stories, I see one defining thread the Divine reaching me, through so many things.

We get attached to the vehicles of our learning, and that can hinder us, because we are expansive beings. Our constructs, our thoughts, our beliefs about how it must be so-ever expanding-if we allow it.  If I focused on the details of my stories, I would most certainly get confused.  I'd think--do I have to go talk to the trees to connect?  Do I go sit in this particular yoga posture?  Do I go talk to Babaji and chant Om Namah Shivaya?   

No.  I get quiet.  I open to my true Self and to my ever expanding edge.  I remain open and invite the Divine to teach me, reach me, and move through me. 

It's not about the how, it's not about the story.  It's about what you contact in those moments.  Those holy, holy moments, where we let go, and remember who we truly, are.  Divinely embraced, always.

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