As I watched the sun rise, sending its first rays sparkling over the frost-covered reeds of the marsh this morning, meditating upon my (not-so) lone pine, the old conifer spoke to me. It told me I am just as out of place in this environment as it is. When it told me this, I was so overcome with emotion I was compelled to wrap my arms around it. And there I stood for the longest time, just hugging the tree, tears streaming down my face.
My lone pine may have roots deeply embedded in the land keeping it where it is, but I do not. Perhaps this part of my journey is not about exploring my old roots, but freeing myself from them.
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