Surrender is surrender I thought dropping my arms from in front of me and letting my whole body lean against the Mother Tree.
I closed my eyes and tried to feel instead of thinking.
The sound of a woodpecker softened by distance was a constant layered by the call of a Bluejay and the soft warble of a bird I didn’t recognize. Tree time, slow and steady, seeped past my clothes, through my skin and into my consciousness.
A hug without arms, the air around me became warmer, softer.
There were no promises that everything would be alright, only the momentary, eternal comfort of being in the presence of one who knows acceptance.
Now, when I visit the mother tree, I always get a little scared at the thought of someone cutting her down. I think of the moss-covered logs I put in the woodstove all winter and cringe.
But the mother tree doesn’t worry. She lives her life, dealing with what comes her way, the best she can.
I imagined myself becoming one of the small trees that sprout from her roots. Growing contentedly in the shadow of her wisdom.
But I’m only a visitor here. Maybe next time, if we get another chance at life.
I open my eyes and kiss the Mother Tree a thank you where I laid my head. I look at Fate who has been waiting patiently next to us and she runs off towards home.