THE TREE, pt. 4

I live in an area of the planet where I experience every season, whether I want to or not. 

Autumn is not my favourite season. Many plants look like they’ve suffered a slow death, people’s moods change as they whine about the colder weather, and the darkness attempts to take ownership of the shorter days alongside their claim on the longer nights. 

There is also a beauty within the darkness in the Autumn months. The vibrant colours from nature brighten our days and attempt to reverse the effects of the darker evenings. The season ignites the changes required for winter survival. And who doesn’t love pumpkin spice? I made pumpkin tarts last month and they were a-MAY-zing, if I do say so myself!

Last year I wrote three newsletters about a “moment” with a tree in my neighbourhood. At the time, I deemed myself crazy. I couldn’t help myself. The tree spoke to me and I shared what I could through words. 

I reflected on my writing journey in mid-October this year, including the newsletters I wrote about the TREE. I continued to use the spark I received last year along this journey even without seeing the tree in its physical form for months.

I walked home one sunny October day to escape the crowded transit and the concrete jungle downtown. I took a path where I could enjoy the multi-coloured treelines the more I made my way home. I was only two blocks away when, out of the blue, my mind ran across the tree that had inspired me last year. 

“I am in no rush. let me take a detour home.”

On my way to THE tree, a woman in front of me stopped suddenly and pulled out her phone. She took a photo of a (different) tree to her right and walked away. 

I had to stop and look at this tree. It was full of red and orange leaves that glowed in the sunlight. It was stunning. Yet I felt nothing. I moved on.

I continued to THE TREE and paused. It looked worn and weathered with its green leaves. And I still felt its spark. 

The first word that came to mind was PREPARATION. 

The tree was preparing for the winter by conserving whatever energy it could. This made me think of all trees adapting to the changing seasons. They bear their fruits in the spring and bear their vulnerability by fall. If the weather shifts it will shift with it to protect its essence. They adapt to remain strong.

There was a sense of peace when looking at the tree. Unlike in the Spring, when the blossoms demand attention, the tree shared a calm and forgiving vibration. It was a gentle reminder to be mindful of what I want to leave behind in order to make room for something new.

I wrote the words PREPARATION, CHANGE, and RESILIENCE in my journal as soon as I arrived home. These words resonated with experiences faced this year, both with my creative journey and life in general. It was comforting in that moment to feel I was on the right path.

It was also refreshing to see another person appreciating a tree. Did the woman earlier find a spark in the other tree? What messages did she receive?

I want to believe the woman had a moment similar to mine last year and wanted to capture the memory (unlike me, read Part 1!). 

Creativity will change over time and we bloom alongside it. We will experience change throughout our journey. Like a tree, we can be resilient by preparing for and adapting to each season while being mindful of what we leave behind. Regardless of the season, multiple trees are ready to share with us along the path. It may not look the same for each journey (the tree I resonate with most may not sound the same to you, and vice-versa) and this is OK. These differences are what enhance the greatness of the creations we produce.

Stay strong and prepare for greatness, fellow creatives.

Nadine