“While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we
see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see.”
― Dorothea Lange
It was one of those early Spring times of transition. It didn’t feel like late afternoon, it didn’t feel like early evening, it felt like a nameless space in-between. I was blessed to find myself in a park near my home when the sun hit the perfect spot for the light to angle just so and make everything appear magical.
I suppose magical could be their natural state and it is just this light that shows it so vividly.
I felt like Disney’s Snow White when she is at the water well and the birds fly all around her, singing. So much bird song greeted me it was like a bird-song tunnel and the lavender scent was intoxicating. Layers upon layers upon layers of lavender rose to meet my hands and face.
I came upon a simple, small tree. I don’t even know what kind of tree it was, but the light kissed it gently and it responded with such beauty I could not take my eyes off her.
The entire experience was so lush - and so brief - that when I sat in my car waiting for my daughter several moments later, I continued to work with the images I had taken while on my thirty minute mini-retreat.
I looked at the untouched photos of the tree. My heart filled as I looked at the singing leaves and the quiet wildflowers smiling into her face.
I realized most people wouldn’t probably see the tree this way. It wasn’t a moment of judgment, it was more like a moment of “what do they see? What does she see? He see? What do you see?”
Sometimes, a tree is just a tree.
And sometimes, a tree is a mosaic. An inspirer. An aggravating thing that gets in the way.
Such power we have to look at one tree and see so many different trees!
Such power we have to be able to look from different perspectives and appreciate the variety of views.
I have known many people who would rather argue about what the tree is rather than experience the tree itself. What a tragedy for them! What a loss!
What we can do, then, is to simply stay with the tree - be it a metaphor for any circumstance in life - and model what it looks like and feels like to be open, to not posture, to not have to be “right”. Be ready to see what your eyes can’t see when you are posturing for position in “being right” or needing to prove to the world that the tree IS in fact a mosaic (or an aggravating thing that gets in the way.)
Shauna Niequist says it like this: ““We sometimes choose the most locked up, dark versions of the story, but what a good friend does is turn on the lights, open the window, and remind us that there are a whole lot of ways to tell the same story.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
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Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, creative life coach, speaker, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Watch for announcements here about upcoming Writing Camp programs: both virtual and in your community! Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.
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