shadow tree and me

It’s the day before leaving for a week of vacation and I’m already anticipating bringing Nora out here for her last off leash romp tomorrow morning before taking her to the kennel to be boarded. Nervous that her freedom will be so drastically curtailed for a week, I am wishing for her spirit to expend as much energy as possible to be able to rest in her more confined environment. I know it doesn’t necessarily work this way. She will adapt and do fine I am told. But I’m still worried. With this emotion swirling around my heart, we enter the trail. The sun is doing its thing and shooting spotlights. I turn around to look at the massive trunk being illuminated right now. Like a big spotlight on my worry with the shadow of me right alongside keeping it company.


It’s an evocative image, this shadow, tree, and me. I love the detached feeling that comes with it. Placing myself in the shadow, it is just me and the tree and I can’t see the worry anymore. So it goes with spirit. It lives and travels as need be, without emotion, moving in and out of light and shadow. Kush’s spirit left his body a week ago but my goodness, his presence is still quite strong. It lives in the shadow of his energy that had such an impact on his sister when he was alive. Desi is like a different cat now that her brother is no longer physically here. She is more vocal, more present, more affectionate, she has even stopped pooping in the bathroom sink and has resumed a more normal relationship with the litter box. I know she misses her brother but she seems more free to me. And this gives me pause.


I have a dear friend who doesn’t believe there is a reason for suffering in dying or suffering of those left behind after death. She just can’t accept that this could be a choice or part of a plan. I think of another dear friend who shared that yesterday was the tenth anniversary of the passing of her first daughter who died in womb just before birth. This event changed her life in ways she is eternally grateful for. I think of my grandmother, whose brain died long before her body and left her communing in spirit with those around her because she no longer had coherent words. She became the most luminous spirit during that time. And now comes an unexpected surge of emotion. Gramma in this life was such a free spirit. She loved trees. Even as the last of her ability to communicate this was leaving, she would walk around the neighborhood with me touching the trees in reverence, and then sit on my porch saying how much she enjoyed being with the ancient trees that enliven this space I live in. I am my grandmothers’ granddaughter after all. And free spirit that I would be, I do wish for each living thing to find their way to be free in spirit too.

This all comes together in a quiet moment sitting at the edge of the brook. Instead of moving full steam ahead this morning, I have found a large rock to sit on and watch Nora explore in the water, waiting for the spotlight of the sun to hit me this time. I don’t have to wait long.


I don’t have to worry about Nora. She will find her way too.


2 thoughts on “shadow tree and me

  1. Kathy, I resumed the lessons in ACIM. Yesterday was something like, “None of my thoughts mean anything.” (!) As I read your piece, I think, “None of my worries mean anything.” Hmmm. Curious to see where these exercises lead….


    • Thanks Julie. You remind that even though worry might be felt in different part so of the body, it always originates as a thought that doesn’t mean anything! Looking forward to where the exercises lead you too!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s