Today I said something that I thought I'd never hear myself say. "Life is too short not to trespass." But the temptation was just too much on this hot day...and the 100 year old (or older?) Weeping Willow was beckoning us ever so gently to visit and stay awhile in its glorious breezy shade. We had just gone through the drive through at McDonald's for cold drinks and we were on our way to our favorite antique mall when we spied the enormous tree in a vacant lot next door.
I drove our minivan right through the mowed lot and right up next to the tree...so close that the breeze blew the tips of its wispy arms right into my window.
It was quiet except for the low hum of traffic on the freeway and the soft rustle of the leaves as the branches swayed in the breath of the sky. The air was so wondrously cool there in the comfort of it...I felt as if it was whispering to me about simply being in that moment...and that life would slow down a little if I took the time to let it, instead of trying to fit work into each and every spare moment I am given.
I've been utterly and completely overwhelmed lately... the challenge of parenting our three teenagers in their varying stages of teenhood, and being mommy to our 5 year old too...coping (or attempting to cope) with the unrelenting pain of neuropathy and arthritis in my spine, running my online business and trying find more ways that I can "get myself out there" so that I can be a better provider, writing and creating for publications and businesses, and trying not to loose myself (and my mind) in the process. None of this is really new, but I think I am just feeling more fragile these days.
Today, time stood still for a little while, and I wasn't thinking of any of the things I just spoke of....it was just us and the Willow and the breeze. My husband, our little guy, me, and that ancient tree whispering to me about time and how much it has already seen and how if I would just take a moment to be....just be, that time would slow down a little so that I could catch my breath.
I happened to have my camera today. I wanted to share a little of that moment under the Willow with you...and I'd like to thank you for being here, in this moment. I feel so blessed that you are out there in the world and spending this time to read what I have to say.
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Thank you for another beautiful post and video. It took me back to my childhood on a Virginia farm where we had a grand weeping willow that I think of often. I believe the first willow in America originated around 1775 from a willow basket from Portugal that a friend of Thomas Jefferson had buried as trash. The basket took root and when Jefferson saw the resulting tree, he took cuttings and planted several at Monticello. It was an inspiring sight then, as it is now. There is no better setting to regain your balance.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the cool breeze! Love the new "look" of your blog. xo
ReplyDeleteMommie D
Hello, i'm from Argentina. mm, I like this blog...
ReplyDeleteIf you want, intro to my blog :)
Sandra
Jennifer,
ReplyDeleteI'm standing still in this moment blowing with the wispy limbs :D
Thank you so much for sharing a glimpse into your world + what you're feeling. I relate so much to these feelings + I'm sure many others do too!
"You are enough. You have enough. You do enough." SARK
Love + Light,
Carissa
PS. I love weeping willows + drive thru sodas ;P
http://www.carissapaige.blogspot.com
The web is like the cool tendrils of that breeze...it reaches out, touching those near and far...establishing, for a brief moment, a shared experience, an intimacy, a sense that one is not alone...and then...it is gone. But the memory of it's cool touch remains, and you are richer for the experience.
ReplyDeleteOh, Jennifer--this was truly a breath of fresh air. When I was a young girl growing up in NJ, my parents planted two weeping willow trees in our backyard--one for me and one for my sister. Those trees grew up to be giants that always beckoned us to sit and rest. I miss them still. What a wonderful memory jogger. Thank you so much
ReplyDeleteReading this made me realize that I, too, so often do not take the time to enjoy a quite moment...to drink in the beauty around me. I have been going through life, as of late, as one who can not see, as someone who sometimes forgets to feel. Thank you, Jennifer, for helping me to open my eyes to see and not be so numb from life! (I still think of you when I walk into the cool wet morning grass barefoot...something I would not otherwise do...)
ReplyDeleteReading this made me realize that I, too, so often do not take the time to enjoy a quite moment...to drink in the beauty around me. I have been going through life, as of late, as one who can not see, as someone who sometimes forgets to feel. Thank you, Jennifer, for helping me to open my eyes to see and not be so numb from life! (I still think of you when I walk into the cool wet morning grass barefoot...something I would not otherwise do...)
ReplyDelete