Hello.

Are you a sitting tree, here for me?  I see a spot where I can cop a squat — right in the crook of your several trunks, here is where I’ll think some thunks.

I mean, thoughts.

You stand quite proud and mighty strong, and you’ve stood here so very long, being right where you belong.

How much thought did it take, for you to finally make the decision to be here, instead of there?

Perhaps none.

And what about your branching; is this some kind of tree dancing, where one trunk chooses to be four?  Seems to me, these four do give you more ways to branch out; so much easier to extend in whatever direction you intend.

Do you decide how your branches will grow?  They go up, and around, then high, then low; and as they change, and furl around, do you make a happy sound, one that only trees can hear?

Your internal choreography — delightful to see!

You make me smile, so I’ll sit awhile, and I thank you for inviting me.

I’ll sit and wonder, I’ll be still and ponder how lovely when we get to sit upon a strong and steady  tree.

Yes, I’ll sit a spell, nestled in this four-trunk tree . . .

Then I’ll say Goodbye, California, thanks for the past six weeks!

They must often change, who would be constant in happiness and wisdom.  Confucius

I believe . . .  I think . . .  Seems to me . . .  Maybe . . .

These are words I use a lot, most often at the beginning of a sentence.  I’m now challenging myself here: why do I do that?  These words speak of uncertainty.  Am I uncertain, and uncertain about everything?

Do I want to be certain? Is this even possible?

Beliefs change.  Thoughts change.  Appearances change.  Realizations change.  Am I okay with this?

I was told that to grow is to change, and to change often.   This makes sense, and I see the evidence everywhere in nature — and nature is where lessons lie, right?  For me, anyway, since nature is where I choose to immerse myself.

Nature speaks of change; of seasons; of being true to one’s uniqueness and one’s purpose.  She speaks of harmony; and of acceptance, and surrender.  Nature just is.  This is what I love, and what I want:  to just BE.

Nature tells me that, in this uncertain world, there are three things I can be sure of —

I am.  I grow.  I change.

Where do your certainties lie, I wonder? 

Time for a short follow-up to a recent post, only because the responses brought this thought into my head:  if I got it, and you got it, then it’s probably contagious, and all of us who’ve got it have the power, together,  to infect the entire world.

I’m convinced that we’re doing a great job of spreading the infection.  I’ve seen it show up in the most unlikely places, even in quite sterile environments that don’t support contagion.  I mean, have you ever walked down a street, made eye contact with a frowning person and smiled at him, and he smiled back?  Isn’t it amazing?  Have you noticed how, when a person smiles, lights come on in their eyes?  There must be a toggle switch somewhere that makes that happen.

Or maybe I’ve got it wrong.  Maybe the infection already exists in every person, and is lying dormant waiting to be activated by something.  Works for me!  I guess we shouldn’t go poking and prodding people to get the infection active, though.  We just let our infectious selves be.  We just let our light shine.  We just love, really and genuinely love, all creatures everywhere.  I think that’s how we spread what we’ve got.

Question is, what exactly is this infection?  What would you call it?