Roots

February 1 2013

Lately I've been trying to imitate something, someone, some idea that might help me feel and be more peaceful, stable. With this constant movement happening all around, it seems so hard to grab onto something. Getting caught up in a wild whirlwind of words, emotions that stay in small sound proof rooms, and feelings poured in between the small cracks of the tile floor becomes a weight that pulls and pulls until my chest is level with the ground and I can't feel a pulse.

Walking away, I could hear the quietest creaks inching their way closer to the other side of my feet. I look up and the wind is pushing the top of my head closer to the branches of a towering sycamore tree. Concrete poured over its roots, these same roots lifting these concrete blocks until they are knee high.

I thought if I'd imitate anything, it would be this sycamore tree. Something that has been so resilient, something that lives through generation and generation of concrete being poured over its roots but somehow it finds a way to resurface. Somehow, after all this time it's branches and leaves still sway with this light wind. And it lets me place my hand on it's trunk and all I can feel is a completely solid core. Something that can't be moved, a middle that stays and grows.

So I'll learn from this tree. I understand that I'm only so much, but I'm also as much as I try to be. I'll continue through this constant movement, but with a much stronger and grounded depth this time.