Lessons from Nature
There is a long row of alders I sometimes visit—more than thirty, standing like silent guardians along the boundary.
Each shaped by wind and time.
But it is to the seventh tree that I always return
I don’t know why I count to seven, but I do. Every time.
And the seventh…
leans out. Crooked. Beautiful.
Not out of weakness, but out of will.
This is a tree that has stretched and reached,
to find the light when it was hidden.
With roots touching the others beneath the earth,
a quiet network of nourishment.
Yet, growing alone in its own way,
not needing another to define itself,
or to be complete or carried by another.
But accepting the support of others.
The alder is both male and female,
a whole tree, balanced within.
With catkins and cones growing side by side,
a harmony of opposites, held together in one form.
Teaching us that we do not need to fragment ourselves to belong.
We are allowed to be complete and still belong.
If you listen quietly, you might hear its heartbeat.
Not in sound, but in feeling,
a pulsing through the deep roots,
a rhythm in the sound of the wind above.
Saying:
“It is not weakness to bend – It is survival.
It is not wrong to grow differently – It is sacred.
It is not selfish to reach for the light.
It is necessary – so you can shelter others.”
What the Alder has taught me
- That we can stand close to others and still be ourselves
- That we can support and nurture quietly, without recognition
- That reaching for what we need is not selfish — it is wisdom
- That crooked doesn’t mean broken — it means resilient
- That our balance exists within, not in what others give us
- That stillness holds a heartbeat if we are willing to listen
- That masculine and feminine energies can live in one soul, in quiet harmony
You don’t need to fit the shape others expect.
You are allowed to lean toward your own light.
And in doing so, you may become the shelter
someone else never dared to hope for.