The Many Scarred Tree

 One of the tools that I use to help with anxiety has been to practice meditation and mindfulness.  This does not mean sitting for hours staring at my belly button and trying to think of nothing.  Rather it is about no matter if I am sitting, walking or performing some chore or task,  I am also practicing keeping my focus on noticing the world around me. Not distracting myself with music or audiobooks, or letting my brain endlessly spiral around upcoming tasks etc.  It is taking some time to really notice the little things around you that normally are just background, that we might not even really see as we walk by.

A few weeks ago I happened to have a little over an hour of time between work and a writing class I am taking, so I stopped by a small park and explored a new to me nature trail.  It happened to be a low energy day so I knew it would be a slow meander and just took my time at a pace that didn't have me stopping to catch my breath.  It happened to be a very old boardwalk, covered with moss, and with many uneven boards.  It even had some areas under construction with missing boards and new off to the side ready to replace them.  Going slow was probably the wisest way to take with the somewhat treacherous path.  There were several lollipop branches with one overlooking a river that I chose to rest at, and meditate and watch the river for a bit.  Watching the river, with no people about, it was still a busy place.  Reflections of sunlight off the water danced on the underside or tree branches overhanging the river in a mesmerizing pattern.  Huge red dragonflies patrolled and circled across and around, across and around, with occasional dives at the insects skimming the water.   A large fish jumped, startling me with its sudden huge splash.  Shortly after a huge raptor (I am not skilled enough in bird identifying to know the exact type) bright white and brown speckled body dove down towards the water.  It seemed to be coming right at me as its claws reached for the surface and missed its prey.  It circled twice before flying off further down the river.  I tried to focus on my breathing and simply take it all in, and marveled at just how busy the world is with no people around.  How much life is going on in the world that we often do not take the time to notice.  

I continued on my way, wanting to give myself enough time to get back to the start of the trail, and eventually I came upon a tree that was so torn and scarred that I was amazed that it still lived. Something in the tree's past had tried to take it out and been unsuccessful. Here it stood, scarred but very much alive. Standing straight and tall with a bright green canopy overhead.  A silent reminder that damaged does not mean broken.  Sometimes we make it out of the trauma heavily scarred and survive and thrive nonetheless.  

Lost in thoughts of the tree and what it meant or symbolized for me (not a mindful moment!),  I was startled by someone coming up behind me.  The first person I had seen out there, she said something like, "behind you", and I jumped probably a foot to the side as she speed walked past me.  She had headphones in and seemed to be going faster than was safe for this boardwalk.  I think she barely noticed me as she went by.  I wondered if she had noticed the scarred tree?  Or had taken a moment to watch the river?  I suddenly felt sad for her, and by that same token for my past self.  How many trails did I run with friends where it felt good to be out in nature but I was distracted with conversation.  Did I really see and hear and appreciate the world around me?  How many runs did I do with headphones and an audiobook or podcast running in my ear to distract me?  What did I miss by not taking some extra time to really feel and focus on all the vibrant life around me.  

This experience seemed to be a reminder that no matter how busy I am, trying to fit that workout in, I should stop and take a breath, and take the time to mindfully take it all in.