Coming Down
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The Plane tree next door dropped a hefty branch on the nearest house during our last ice storm. This morning, Seda and I spot some traffic cones on the sidewalk. We shouldn’t be surprised, but we are. People in hard hats surround the girth of the tree, looking up. They are assessing the order of operations.
A bubble of panic rises in my throat. My neighbor appears on her porch, drying her hands. “We’re taking down the tree,” she says, and I blanch. “I know. It’s sad,” she says. “I’ve been saying goodbye to her all week and telling her I love her. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”
I’m stunned, and I get it. I would make the same choice. “It’s ok,” I tell her.
“Would it be alright if I take a moment with her before you begin?” I ask the arborists. They nod, and I encircle the tree’s enormous trunk with my arms. She’s been standing here for as long as we’ve lived in our home and for decades before that.
I rest my cheek against her cool, patchy bark. I’m grateful for the sensation. I thank the Plane tree for her shade. I thank her for protecting us and our garden from torrents of rain. I thank her for shading picnics on the grass with friends and neighbors. I feel tears well up in my eyes, and I allow them to wash my cheeks. My heart breaks gently. I thank the Plane tree for her beauty, and for showing me life every day. For the sound of her leaves which I hear in the wind from my bedroom window. She is family. We are one.
And just as my physical form on this planet is ever in motion, I recognize the possibility of change in my friend’s structure. She will not be gone. Her chips and bark will remain in my neighbor’s yard. The sawed rounds of her massive trunk will become seats on the land I steward. She will maintain a presence in this space I call home. There is warmth in my heart, acknowledging this. I feel a flow of life within me, almost celebratory.
The blue sky will open expansively where the Plane tree now stands, and my cherry trees will stretch into that light, an opportunity which has never been afforded to them. Spring will come and go without the pollen that leaves me stuffy. A new era is upon us, and I find a readiness within.
When have you allowed your emotions “safe passage” in the moment and found both satisfaction and acceptance in the change at hand?
Allowing Emotions Safe Passage is one of the practices in the Core Alignment with Joy series, now available as an At-Your-Pace online recorded class here.