BROADCASTS.com

\nSomewhere along the way we easily lose contact with the mystery and wonder of a life we're thrown into, a life that comes to us infused with presence and possibility. Perhaps because there are no directions, and perhaps because we're thrown into life without our say-so, and perhaps because there are always pressing practical issues of survival and care to attend to, it's easy for us to find ourselves far from contact with the simple mystery that is around us and between us. So how might we hold both wonder and practicality together with one another? And what inner freedoms might we draw upon to support us in this?
\n
\nThis week's Turning Towards Life is hosted as always by Lizzie Winn and Justin Wise of Thirdspace.
\n
\nTurning Towards Life, a week-by-week conversation inviting us deeply into our lives, is a live 30 minute conversation hosted by Justin Wise and Lizzie Winn of Thirdspace.\xa0 Find us on FaceBook to watch live and join in the lively conversation on this episode. You can find videos of every episode, and more about the project on the Turning Towards Life website, and you can also watch and listen on Instagram, YouTube, and as a podcast on Apple, Google, Amazon Music and Spotify.
\n
\nHere's our source for this week:
\n
\nOrdinary\xa0
\n
\nHer sturdy branches\xa0
\nwere the towering mountains\xa0
\nto dance on.\xa0
\nHer deep roots,\xa0
\nthe rolling rivers to frolic in.\xa0
\nEvery inch of her was infused with the wonder of the world.
\n
\nTen years later,
\nI am ten years older.\xa0
\nI walk past the ordinary tree on an ordinary day.\xa0
\n
\nHer trunk was a place of comfort,\xa0
\njust the place to eat my\xa0
\noatcakes.
\nIn autumn her fallen leaves were\xa0
\nwarm blankets
\nfor the fairies.\xa0
\nIn spring her golden buds
\nwere the perfect shape\xa0
\nof a fish for my fire. \xa0
\n
\nTen years later,
\nI am ten years older.\xa0
\nI walk past the ordinary tree on an ordinary day.\xa0
\n
\nI would look up through\xa0
\nher web of leaves
\nat the cold sky.\xa0
\nI would sit resting against her trunk,\xa0
\nfeeling her rootedness\xa0
\nInto the underground world.\xa0
\n
\nTen years later,
\nI am ten years older.\xa0
\nI walk past the ordinary tree on an ordinary day.\xa0
\n
\nOn one of my last afternoons with her,
\nshe slipped something into my pocket.
\nWhen I asked what it was
\nshe answered\xa0
\n\u201cYou will know one day, when\xa0
\nyou are aware and awake\u201d\xa0
\nI didn't understand
\nthose words so\xa0
\nI sat,
\nI forgot.\xa0
\nI trusted.
\n
\nTen years later,
\nI am ten years older.\xa0
\nI walk past the ordinary tree on an ordinary day.
\n
\nAs I grew older\xa0
\nAnd started to wake,\xa0
\nI forgot what it felt like to feel so content
\nalone with her.
\nI forgot what it felt like to dance on her mountains,\xa0
\nor frolic in her rivers.\xa0
\nMy focus started to shift,\xa0
\nmy life felt\xa0
\nfull and heavy,\xa0
\nmy mind was only ever thinking\xa0
\nahead of what was.\xa0
\nMy body felt full of weighted dread.\xa0
\n
\nTen years later,
\nI am ten years older.\xa0
\nI walk past the ordinary tree on an ordinary day.
\n
\nOne day, long after I had stopped
\nmy visits to the tree,\xa0
\nI reached into my pocket
\nto find what she had given me
\nall that time ago.
\nNow some may only have seen an\xa0
\noatcake,\xa0
\nbut I saw so much more,\xa0
\nI saw the dreams I use to have,\xa0
\nI saw the blissful joy.\xa0
\n
\nTen years later,
\nI am ten years older.\xa0
\nI walk past the ordinary tree on an ordinary day.
\n
\nI saw her mountains,\xa0
\nsmelt the rivers,
\nI saw the fairies passing by.\xa0
\nAn explosion of life filled my heart\xa0
\nas tears filled my eyes.\xa0
\nAs I looked at the oatcake
\nresting softly in my hand,
\nI wondered to myself\xa0
\nhow I ever lost this joy.\xa0
\n
\nTen years later,
\nI am ten years older.\xa0
\nI walk past the ordinary tree on an ordinary day.
\n
\nI wanted to keep it forever and ever\xa0
\nand never let it go,\xa0
\nmaybe if I gripped it tight enough,\xa0
\nit would surrender and stay with me.\xa0
\nIn that moment I heard her voice,\xa0
\nfaint,\xa0
\nCarrying the warmth
\nof a soft summer breeze,\xa0
\n\u201cit is always in your reach,\xa0
\nmy love,
\n\xa0it will always be there waiting,\xa0
\nbut letting go is part of life,\xa0
\nlet this be your\xa0
\nawakening\u201d\xa0
\n
\nTen years later,
\nI am ten years older.\xa0
\nI walk past the ordinary tree on an ordinary day.
\n
\nBo Holden
\nOctober 2022
\n
\nPhoto by Gilly Stewart on Unsplash\n