To get through any difficulty, any pain, big or small, tapping into my inner oak is the only means of survival. It stands quietly for all of us, though we must savor and nurture the strength within us that matches her stoic glory. As I came into this world the seedlings of possibility were planted and took root, connecting each experience one to another and building a bending string of possibilties into a braided cord of truth. That trunk that holds my newness up to the sky isn't there to attract attention or bring on accolade, but to support those dreams with surety. Everpresent it stands, never taking center stage but alway lifting and holding.
As the cherry blossoms bloom and spiral to the earth, surrounding and wooing, I know that once they reach the ground they will simply fade away and become the nurturing magic that sinks into the soil and travels through vessels in my trunk. They will end up a component of the strength that lifts the mature beauty to my sun where it can bask and glow and smile upon me even as I fall to the ground in anguish. I can fall down knowing that when I am ready to rise up again, I will have a solid path for climbing and life beneath my corpus. Even as the lovely blossoms surround my feet I can shimmy above their rotting dismay and scale branches to the sky.