If you made it past the title, I like you. (I would like you anyway, but I like you a lot cause you gave this a chance.)
I’ve always liked trees. I used to like climbing the cedar trees at my childhood home. (And those are realllllyyyyy sappy, so my mom loved that I made this a regular thing.) I climbed the huge magnolia outside of the church I went to as a kid. If I’m being honest, it was the only part of the church day I liked. But I like trees for more than just climbing.
I like how resistant they are. They weather storms the world throws at them. And though they might lose a limb in the winds, they persist. And, eventually, they regrow the branch and continue on.
They root into the ground and find stability in themselves. Their foundation allows them resilience and autonomy. (And there’s stuff about nutrients and sunlight and water and stuff… of course.)
Lexi… what. Okay, stick with me here… get it? I want to be like a tree. I want to be able to find comfort and safety in myself. I want to root into my life and take hold. I want to withstand storms and regrow and thrive after them. I want to be resilient.
But trees… and recovery? What? During a embodying recovery group, we discussed how you have to first ground yourself if you want to push out and expand. You must find your footing before you lean into something else, or you may lose balance. So too must a tree establish itself before it can grow taller and stronger.
I think one of my all time favorite yoga stances is tree pose. It’s powerful and connecting.
You must anchor yourself to the ground using the ball and side of one foot while balancing. It takes strength, focus, and persistence.
But so does recovery. You must find a part inside of you to grab hold of and never let go. You must find your “roots.”
****Side note. I wrote this waiting for my medication. Small moments (or 30) of reflection.