I’m thinking now about tree roots, and
cement sidewalks [from my childhood] in the process of being broken by the
natural growth of the roots.
There was an
unpleasant chore in my family when I was growing up; it involved using a hoe to
scrape the “weeds” (beautiful green growing things) from the cracks in the driveway
and concrete decks around our house. I believe we were all assigned this task
from time to time; but as the youngest child capable of outdoor yard work and
the one with less time on the planet to learn more complex tasks as my older
siblings had, I imagine I took more frequent turns with the cement weeding. I
remember asking about it: “But why would we want to make the living plants go
away? I think they’re pretty, Mommy.” Alas, there were grown up answers to my
get-out-of-the-chore, but also ecobaby-true-for-me, queries.
The tree roots
were another impediment to smooth cement surfaces in my childhood; giant liquidambar roots, ecstatic to live in
such a friendly climate, would stretch, strengthen, spread until eventually they
reached beyond the small dirt patch to which they were confined (between
sidewalk and curb). Their bountiful growth over time slowly uplifted the
sidewalk, cracked the curb.
I was delighted
by this! The mud worlds-within-caverns in between shards of cracked concrete sidewalks were a treasure trove of insect, plant, rock, and shadowed life of
all sorts. Even pudgy fingers could wiggle down in to extract some frightful
pleasure. The natural world was laid bare, open, “unearthed” for me.
What in my life is so beautifully rooted,
growing, and thriving that its natural branching out, its innate reach for a
broader space for nourishment and abidance, is powerful enough to crack open
resistance? Is my gratitude robust enough to flourish in this manner? What constitutes
the solid barrier in my life through which gratefulness can break free?: circumstances,
perhaps? fear or oppression that my natural, healthy corpus, or spirit, or
tiramisu-layered emotional life is stifled by, held under the might of those
circumstances, just as the cement—for a time—impedes the tree roots?
What in your
life flourishes? What holds you back from that natural tendency to spread
yourself widely and beautifully into the light of the world?
Yes, let us emulate all those luscious grass-y, clover-y cement-dwellers and the honorable liquidambar!
Journal entry 1.6.17
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2017 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
