Right after posting this blog, I was gifted a box of blank cards titled “Tree of Hope.”
I am posting again, with the new title and with the front of the card now included.
Deep Spring Center
Thought for Today
“If you wish to live in (a certain city)
what might block you from manifesting that move?
Is there any question about your worthiness
to live in a place that is most delightful to you?
Any question about fear of getting what you want?
The question here is not where you will live
but how will you manifest the situation you seek,
and that must be asked by,
What blocks that manifestation?’
Because when the blockage is gone
then it can be allowed to manifest.”
~ Aaron
Last week our big tree was removed. I have been sitting with the question Barbara Brodsky asked me about whether the tree still lives in my heart. (See my previous blog, “Does the tree still live in your heart?“) It took a few days to honor the intense sadness, but a couple of times I could see the empty space in the yard. I was able to feel an open space in my chest and abdomen. I was reminded of the way organs and limbs that have been removed remain energetically present. I also thought of all of the loved ones in spirit whom we feel and experience as here with us after the physical form is gone. My prayer became to allow my majestic tree to live in my heart.
Monday afternoon our park owner stopped by our house because our water meter was needing some repair. After the repairs were made, I mentioned the removal of our tree. I told him how sad I had been over the removal. “I am not trying to get anyone in trouble, but you need to know that the tree workers told me they found no rot.”
We walked out back together and stood together in the opening under the sun where the tree’s branches used to wave.
“I am sorry,” he said, “I would have sworn this tree had rot in the crotch and was infested by ants.”
Looking into his face, I shook my head, and repeated, “The workers told me they found no rot.”
I felt the spirit of the tree bolster my heart as I continued, “This park is your business, but it is also our home. We need to be able to have open communication and to trust and respect one another.”
“I could not agree more,” he replied. My heart felt his sincerity. It was as though the magnificent old tree was smiling at us. He, too, genuinely felt the loss. Maybe not his own loss, but definitely mine. He said he is still planning to remove other trees.
“Is there something I could have done differently?” I ventured.
“I have learned the importance of not dismissing a communication,” he said as we parted ways.
I trust the old tree will continue communicating. I wish to live in a world where magnificent old trees and property managers recognize their value and contribution to our planet. I wish to live in a world where men listen to women and women forgive men when they don’t.
It still remains what will become of the potential of the space here in our yard. A gazebo? A flowering tree? A small labyrinth? A fire pit?
When we stop fighting with what is, we begin to see the infinite possibilities.
