It’s a fine fall day, and the Blue of the Colorado Sky dominates. A welcoming granite boulder lends a seat and I take it, lean back, and stare into the endlessness of Blue. I inhale Blue and imagine it swirling around inside. Soon, I feel an expansiveness in my heart and my heart unlocks – heart now softened and malleable. The present moment descends from on high and feels visceral – like I could grab a handful of it and take it back home with me.
My eyes drift from Blue to mottled sandstone cliffs towering above. Where the sun hits just right, portions of the cliffs carry a sheen. Below the mottling and sheen is a community of pinyons and junipers. The green feels good on the eyes. I gaze at green and see baby saplings, adolescents, mature trees, and relics of the past.
But my eyes are drawn to an ancient, gnarled pinyon. I study this tree. The trunk winds and bends and comes back up again. Some roots are exposed. Some branches look lifeless, and one branch is completely broken off. Some branches host needles and pinecones, while others do not.
This is Grandmother Tree.
I study Grandmother Tree…
Her roots have carved through layers of earth to find sustenance for life. I wonder,
How old is Grandmother Tree?
She has seen much, and I imagine her knowledge and wisdom run deep, as deep as her roots.
I want her knowledge and wisdom.
I mimic her.
Soon, I sense my limbs as branches, my hair as needles, my veins as sap, and find myself growing roots, deep through layers of earth… just like Grandmother Tree.
How did you survive this desert living? I ask her.
She recounts tales of strong winds, deep freezes, years of drought, scorching sun, sheets of hail. What an ordeal, I think to myself, and sense her pain, my own pain, the pain of the world.
I empathize with Grandmother Tree – Yes, desert living is hard. Life is hard, I tell her. Grandmother Tree pauses long and thoughtfully before she responds. Finally, Grandmother Tree amends my thoughts with this:
It is about the stories we tell ourselves. When you see yourself as a victim, you remain a victim, and you remain powerless. But when you see yourself as a survivor, you become empowered.
