Peace for the Freed Tree and Peace for Me

One of the worst parts of being in South Carolina is the constant need for landscaping. It isn’t that I am against making things tame and beautiful; it’s the sweltering heat, red ants that you discover too late, and the humidity that disallows showers to “take” effect. The other day, I looked out into my yard and could not ignore it anymore.

I am the type of person whereby you can tell what state my life is in by checking out the organization, or lack thereof, of my home and surroundings. My backyard is much like things my life right now, untamed, unfocused, and somewhat ignored out of feelings of being overwhelmed.

My backyard is a example of allowing things to get out of control and needing to begin again, cut things back, make them manageable, and I finally came to terms with it.

Armed with just about every landscaping tool you can imagine, I hit the backyard with clippers, electric trimmers, an electric tree pole cutting, gloves, and a determination to find the beauty that has been hidden since the hurricane. In September of last year, hurricane Helene took her toll on my home taking down century-old fencing and tearing through trees and bushes.

It was time to take back my yard…

I slowly and tediously made my way around our double lot going from things that are visible from my deck to those hidden crevices that only I know are overgrown and have hidden treasures. When I hit the very back corner of the yard, there was a tree that no one noticed covered in every weed that can encroach, take root, and take over.

It reminded me of how I felt for a decade, strangled, invisible, and frozen. All of its branches were tied down in a spider web of suffocation. It was receiving no sunlight because the parasites that took hold stole all of its nutrients and freedom.

I looked up at this small tree, which I probably could have just passed up and it would have survived just as it was as a host, never reaching the sun again and never seeing the sky that provided life for it.

It could have stayed like that, hidden, taken advantage of, silently suffering, frozen for no one to see indefinitely, but something inside of me took over.

I looked at that tree and almost felt for it.

I knew how it felt to be suffocated right out in the open.

To be stiffled and tied down, without being able to show yourself or tell your story.

I could feel it being depleted, becoming shallow and just a shell of the vibrancy that it once was, and I felt overcome by the need to set it free.

I approached it with all tools in my arsenal. I grabbed at vines, putting all my weight to pull at them. I cut things back, only to have more branches intertwine, come forward to take the last one’s place, and fight against my desire to set it free.

It began to feel like the universe was doing all that it could to keep that tree in check, to not allow me to upset the natural course of what was happening. Everything around the tree worked in unison to hold the status quo, to keep that tree exactly what it was, captive.

Everything that protected the parasitic nature of what was going on fought hard to keep the balance, but I was not giving up.

It took me ab out an hour of pulling, cutting, tugging, ripping, using all of my strength to foolishly “set” a tree “free”.

The last of the vines gave finally and I could see the top of the tree regain its place and feel true sunshine. I could feel the rays of light reach its branch, like breathing air into its lungs. It was free to feel the warmth of the sun’s rays, to grow again, to gain the nutrients it needs, to live again without being captive to oppression, pain, and suffocation.

The reason I know how it felt is that I was once that tree, hidden deep. I had tentacles of anger, violence, and shame wrapped around me, keeping me still and silent. I was that tree…

I stood looking up at it as time almost felt as if it was standing still, admiring its ability to once again feel happiness, if a tree is capable, sweat pouring down my face, my clothing, blood blisters seeping through my gardening gloves, and had a feeling of peace that came over me.

There was peace for the freed tree and peace for the freed me.