New Growth
Today as I hiked my normal spot with the hubs I saw something I couldn’t let go of. As we walked and talked this visual wouldn’t leave my brain. Quite the opposite actually, it started morphing right into this blog. Due to my schedule today our hike was very delayed, what is usually an early morning trek became a late afternoon adventure. The whole place looked different to me, after a fairly dry winter and a fast approaching summer, everything looked different. Even my little creek was practically dry! No sound of running water to be the soundtrack of my hike. I have to admit, I was a little bummed at first, it just felt different. Then I saw the tree. It was during the first loop, the first detour off the main trail, right before the bridge, over the now still creek that the little pine tree stood. The very tips of the branches were a bright green, very different than the deep green of the needles behind it. It was like the tree went and got himself frosted tips à la early 2000 *NSYNC days. My husband pointed it out to me at the same time I was pondering it, I realized then that the new growth isn’t as invisible as I thought.
All of a sudden my little hike was coming alive again. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the frosted tips. I touched the next one I walked by, I was surprised by what I felt. The tips were so soft, by needles standards anyway. Much different than the needles that preceded them. Those were not only deeper in color but sharper, more brittle. I realized those needles had seen some shit. It made me think of us. Humans and all we go through. I always say that who we are isn’t who we will always be, and that’s true, but now I bring you the twist.
As I looked at this tree I couldn’t help but notice the difference, the needles were obviously new, different, yet they came from the same branch as all the needles before them. Those branches led to the same limb, to the same trunk as it’s always been. So much of that tree was uniform, completely the same, except the little frosted tips. How many times do we think that to be new, to be softer, to be healed, we must leave behind who we were? This tree proved that wrong. The new growth got its nutrients and power from the same roots that powered the needles before it. That power them still. Better yet, the new growths strength not only comes from those same roots but it travels through all those old needles before reaching the new ones. That tree is growing and healing not because it started over, it’s growing and healing through its experience. This tree carries with it the old and the new and they feed each other to survive. The new growth heals the old from nibbles and critters and frost. The old feeds the new as it becomes an extension of who it always was. There is no better, no second tree, no competition. One exists because of the other and with out the same old roots, both will die.
I couldn’t get this out of my head, especially since past trauma has been a major healing point for me lately. How nice to know that I can own who I’ve been and also nurture who I am now, and who I will become. That my roots remain the same, that every critter to steal space in my branches, every frost that tried to kill my beauty, every single hiker who failed to notice my frosted tips were just another motivation for my roots to heal. I wouldn’t exist without the old, yet my soft fluffy tips prove that what has been isn’t what will always be. As time goes my new frosted tips will blend into the rest of the needles, who I am becomes one with who I was. Both of importance and none better than the other. No shame, no anger, no fear, just growth. My reach is longer as I stand taller. Not a new beginning just some new growth. Whenever my needles get a little sparse, or a rough winter threatens my branches, my roots will spring into action and once again I’ll have my frosted tips. But as always, who I become will be because of who I’ve been.