I have a friend who has been teaching me about perspective. They are pretty old-probably over 100 years. They have endured much, and witnessed things I can only imagine. They have been split in half and yet remain tall and strong. No matter the weather, my friend is always there on the path, offering solidity and solace. There is wisdom in their silence. As I hugged my friend today, I once again was reminded that, in the end, a lot of stuff just doesn’t matter. Big picture. Bridges wash out and life is hard. Oh well. Mud season will trap us here again and trash our cars. Oh well. The power went out again. yeah? I miss my Minneapolis friends terribly. Well? Taxes are killing us and the price of groceries is insane. Life goes on. I mean, just about anything I can conjure up these days to lose sleep over can be viewed from a different perspective. I’m not saying these things don’t matter. I’m saying they don’t need to take over your whole mindscape.

So now you know, and I don’t care if you laugh at me about it, that I’m a tree hugger. That tree, though, is a living representative of the forest, of nature, of the world beyond humans. Since I moved away from the roar of the city, I continue to sit in awe of the presence of nature. I can be having the crappiest of days, my mind full of worry and pessimism, and without fail a little woods bathing makes it all go away, if only for an afternoon. I find it impossible to walk this land and not be drawn in by the myriad details around me. My brain, so full of the stresses and worry of modern day life, reaches gratefully towards the wonder of the forest. Worry is replaced by curiosity. Distractedness is replaced by focus. Despair is changed to hope….

Hope. That little word with so much power. I equate it with “optimism”, something I’m working hard at cultivating more of. You know what helps? Changing your perspective. Your frame of mind. Your view. My friend the maple tree has encouraged me to lie down by their roots and look up through the trees at the sky, as well as to get close to their bark and observe what finds its home there: lichen, moss, insects, fungi. Not only is the century-old maple tree a wonder of the forest in and of itself, but it is a host to so many other little wonders. And most likely a parent to so many of the younger, more lithe, maples that grow nearby. Everything is connected. How does this relate to “hope”? I am blown away by the realization, every single time I pass through the woods and see this ancient tree, that they have seen it all. Been through it all. Seen far more than I have. Weathered the storm. Literally. Floods, mud, war, depression, all of it. And here they still are, thriving. I can too. I can thrive. You can thrive. It just takes a shift. A shift in perspective.