How trees are helping me define life's priorities
Reflections on growth and change
Hi all!
I have had a hiatus from writing. Many factors went into that, and I am excited to come back and share some reflections and perspectives with you all. This letter is much more sentimental, metaphorical, and philosophical. Those of you who know me well shouldn’t be too surprised by any of this. I share this piece as a piece of my real heart, beneath and beyond the perspectives on healthcare and closer to the heart of healing.
For weeks, a metaphor has been taking root in my head. A way to understand my sense of self, my identity, and what gives me purpose. The image I keep seeing is a tree.
Every spring, I enjoy the slow awakening of the trees and plants in my landscape. Buds on branches slowly unfolding into bright emerald green leaves. Others on shrubs and bushes pop into white, pink and crimson flowers. Seemingly overnight, an eruption of life and beauty from the ground. Dormant trees, those frozen sentinels through winter and early spring, suddenly speaking in hushed voice as their leaves catch breath in the wind. It always feels somehow magical, no matter how many times it happens.
The flowers, leaves, and fruits become this beautiful outward expression of the plant’s long hard work. Growth, production, and fulfillment. But it starts with an essential component – roots.
Deep underground, day after day, roots are providing stability, anchoring the tree to the ground through the seasons. Feeding nutrients up into the body of the tree providing it with the energy to produce the beauty we all take for granted above ground.
Roots are unseen, but without them the tree would rapidly wither and die. Branches and flowers are vital to the tree’s life – but they can regrow, be pruned and formed, and often reflect the health of the tree and roots. The leaves and flowers, while also essential to the life of the tree, are produced by a tree with healthy roots.
So, what are our roots? They are the unseen parts of our lives that feed and ground us: our values, beliefs, convictions. They are all under the surface, deep and enduring, supporting and feeding our lives through all seasons. The branches, leaves, and fruit are what the world sees: titles, achievements, careers, even our relationships. We often think of our identities as coming from these outward visible products, but they are more temporary than we would like to accept. Leaves fall. Branches break. Roots endure, sustaining us through the seasons.
Anyone who has tended a garden knows that without good roots, nothing else matters. We can shape and prune branches all we want, but a single storm can snap off even the strongest branch. Loss hurts, especially if we’ve invested a lot of our life into shaping that branch. It may reshape us in ways that leaves us looking much different than before. It may not be recognizable in the aftermath.
Losing a branch can be more painful when you mistake a branch for a root. It’s easy to do if you find your identity and value in the things you’ve achieved or relationships and roles you’ve had, rather than the deeper parts of who you are. That’s something I’ve been wrestling deeply with over the last year, mistaking lost branches for lost identity. But, if some branches are never pruned or lost, I could miss out on growth opportunities I never saw possible. I may miss out on relationships that are healthier, deeper, and more meaningful. It’s particularly true when some branches are negatively affecting the health of the whole tree. That’s why it’s important to remember where my roots lie, and what are temporary branches in my life.
I can’t regrow branches that were lost. However, new branches – new opportunities – can sprout where the old ones were. In fact, those opportunities may be bigger, and more beautiful, than what was lost. That’s why tending to our roots is so vital. Our values, our character, our internal purpose and motivations will dictate the kind of outward facing representation the rest of the world sees and experiences. They will influence the relationships that we develop. What fruit we produce through our roles and engagements. And when a branch is lost, they will sustain us so that we don’t wither and weaken further as we grow in new directions.
Thanks for spending this moment with me beneath the branches. And thanks especially to those who have shared with me that my writing has impacted them in some way. That’s real motivation to continue to grow my voice and how I use it.
If something I’ve written has resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. And as always, stay rooted—new growth is just around the corner. I’ll see you in the next letter.