Fingers Towards the Skies

A Tree

A tree beside the sandy
River-beach
Holds up its topmost boughs
Like fingers towards the skies
They cannot reach,
Earth-bound, heaven-amorous.

This is the soul of man.
Body and brain
Hungry for earth
our heavenly flight detain.

--Sri Aurobindo

The Patience of Growth

So how does this sprig of life do it? How does she maintain her composure while being nearly engulfed by blanketing snow? How does she maintain her tender layer of fuzz all over her needles while the snow around her attempts to overtake her?

This sprig is no more than three inches tall, yet she persists in making her way through the journey of the seasons. She doesn't seem to be concerned with how much or how fast she grows, just that she is still here and still strong as winter encroaches. She knows the cold season won't last forever and soon the warm sun will encourage her growth again...

In waiting patiently for spring to arrive, and not fully succumbing to the tendency of winter slumber, this elegant sprig of life is still growing -- in that she is learning patience.

The Glow of the Future

So I see this little twig sticking out of the snow, as me, at the halfway point (approximately!) of my life.

I have a choice at this juncture to see my twig self as facing to the left with the long shadow caused by the glowing sun as my past that is following me, never to be released....

....Or, I can see myself as facing to the right with the shadow that is caused by the glowing sun as my future that is long and looming ahead of me full of possibilities and journeys I've only begun to dream of envisioning.

Turning 40 is, for me, about making choices for myself and being more the mistress of my destiny than the victim of my past.

I know which way I choose to see my twig facing...