I believe there are city people, beach people, and tree people. Yes, tree people. Tree people consist of those who prefer the mountains, the woods, the forest—anywhere they can be surrounded by trees.
I am a tree person.
Take a good look at these trees.
Just looking at them makes me want to walk among them, touching the twists and turns of the intertwined branches and trunks. Admiring their uniqueness.
They are not your standard trees. These trees have character.
What if, as young saplings, they were told by their elders, “No, no, no. You’re doing it all wrong. You’re growing improperly! Grow straight and tall, like us. That is what a real tree does.”
Confused, not understanding what they were doing to displease their elders, the young saplings tried to grow straight. They concentrated hard, making every effort to reach straight for the sun.
The more they tried (to become what they were not), the more they failed.
The elders began to chastise them. “What’s wrong with you?” they would ask. “Why can’t you do your simple job? No one will ever love you looking like that.”
The saplings believed the elders. They grew more twisted, less straight. Sadly, they did not see their beauty.
One day, a lost fairy entered the wooded area. She was quite young herself, and didn’t yet realize that trees could read the thoughts of fairies (and humans alike).
How lovely, the little fairy thought. What exquisite tress. This must be an enchanted forest; it feels magical.
The saplings began to smile.
The trees were mesmerized by the little fairy. They watched, with both curiosity and awe, as she began to flutter about, flying high in the air, dipping down low, spontaneously making figure-eights in mid-flight. As she glided between gaps in the branches and trunks, her heart soared. With every tree-filled, joy-filled breath she took, it was as though she was finding more of herself among the trees.
As she flew away, the trees could feel her happiness. They themselves were happy. But more than happy, they felt fulfilled. No matter if she returned or not, these young saplings now knew their worth. They chose to see it. And to believe it.
One small fairy. One small fairy who saw the beauty in the different, the unique.
Young saplings, I ask you, which will you choose to believe? The story that you are doing it all wrong? Or the story that you have within you the inner power and strength to be uniquely who you are? That you can grow up to be anything you want to be, no matter your age.
Choose to see that inner power and strength. Choose to believe it.
Know your worth.
Find yourself among the trees.
We are defined by the stories we tell ourselves.
If a story about trees and fairies is too out–there for you, try this one on:
At a very young age, Steve Jobs was told by a neighbor girl that he had been given up for adoption—“discarded,” was the word she used. As you can imagine, upon hearing this, little Stevie ran home to his parents, crying all the way.
When his parents asked him what was wrong, he told them what the little girl had said, that he had been discarded.
They responded by telling the young Jobs that he was CHOSEN, he was not discarded.
Question: Which story is true? The little girl’s story or Jobs’ parents?
Answer: Whichever story you choose.
Whichever story Steve Jobs chose to believe.
Ask yourself this, is your story helping you to maximize what the Divine has given you? Or is it helping you to fall short?
Choose your story. Choose who you are. And who you are not.
Choose your truth.
I dedicate this post to my boys, Davis and Christian. Be who you are. Always. See your truth in the story you choose. Love, Mom