I have been thinking a lot about trees lately. I was recently gifted a copy of the novel The Overstory from someone who (correctly) guessed that I have a thing for trees. The book is one of the most beautifully written stories I have ever read. In the beginning of the book I paused after each chapter to just let the words sink in. The novel has changed the way I look at trees. And I am used to looking at trees. Hiking and walking in the woods is perhaps my favorite pastime and most essential self-care activity. There are days when I crave trees. Moments when I know I can’t solve some problem by thinking or feeling or obsessing. And I must walk instead. Preferably, among trees. With all the time I spend in the trees, I began to realize I often didn’t see the trees. “No one sees trees. We see fruit, we see nuts, we see wood, we see shade. We see ornaments or pretty fall foliage. Obstacles blocking the road or wrecking the ski slope. Dark, threatening places that must be cleared. We see branches about to crush our roof. We see a cash crop. But trees - trees are invisible.” We’ve been having such a mild winter here in Pittsburgh. I grew up with snow. Lots of snow. And never thought I was particularly fond of it. But this year, I have yearned for snow. I have judged the barren trees, thinking, “They would look better with snow on them.”
I decided to stop judging and I start looking at trees. Really looking at them. And I have become grateful for the lack of leaves. The absence of snow. The opportunity to see—well—the tree. And I realized that trees are beautiful. Without all their ornaments and foliage. They are amazing, intricate, complex, beings. We are so like the trees. It is when we are laid bare that our connections and branches and possibilities are made most visible. It is hard to be made visible. To be seen. We spend so much of our time and energy and money covering ourselves. With the latest fashions. With humor. With false bravado. With attempts to be what we think others want to see in us. In the work I do as a psychologist, a teacher, an advocate for social justice, I know that interactions with others can be contentious. Being seen means being vulnerable. It is scary to be seen. Terrifying. But also, the most magical experience in the world. To be truly seen by another. Just like trees, we can not remain bare all the time. But perhaps we can learn lessons from trees. To shed those things that no longer serve us. To pause and rest, before we grow anew. To allow ourselves to be seen exactly as we are.
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AboutEMPOWERTAINMENT aims to take a critical look at media in regards to how gender and women/girls are portrayed. From popular articles, videos, and websites, to original submissions, we want to not only examine the media and its relation to gender, but help shift it. Archives
November 2017
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