Bare Bones

by Leigh

Every year...around this same time...I write about winter trees. I'm pretty sure every single year I have written about my love for tree silhouettes.  So imagine my excitement when our monthly theme happens to be tree branches!  I always say that you get to know trees in the winter when they are naked and exposed.  Their truth shows through when they aren't clothed by their leaves.  This is when we can see all gnarly branches, broken limbs, and peeling trunks.  

That got me thinking.  Maybe that's why I am so drawn to trees in the winter.  I see parallels between us and the trees.  Without their covering...without the distraction of the flashy colored leaves or the bright blooming flowers we see trees at their most vulnerable state.  We see exactly what they are....and all their imperfections.  If you aren't familiar with Brene Brown she is a research professor that has studied courage, vulnerability, shame and empathy and written about it in many of her best selling books.  In her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, she defines vulnerability as this:  

Vulnerability-willingness to show up and be seen with no 

guarantee of outcome-is our greatest measure of courage.

That's what the trees represent for me.  I see them as brave, vulnerable, courageous.  They remind me that despite my flaws I can show up, be seen and be worthy of love.

Look at the winter trees.  Really look at them...study them...appreciate them.  We are connected to everything and everyone around us in some way.  

“We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honor the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection.

Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them – we can only love others as much as we love ourselves.

Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged, healed and rare.” 
― Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are

The Beauty Of Winter

by Cathy

“When one sees the tree in leaf

one thinks the beauty of the tree is in it’s leaves,

and then one sees the bare tree.”

~ Samuel Menashe

What do you think when you look up and see a tree's bare branches? Are they boring? Depressing? Something we have to endure till spring? Or do you see beauty? Shapes? Textures?

I haven’t always paid much attention to bare trees. It wasn't until I began to wander more and more outside with my camera that I began to take notice of them. Then I began to really see them and see their individual beauty. The last couple of weeks I've taken my camera out and studied tree branches. Here's a little of what I saw.

I saw branches that looked like long fingers pointing toward the sky.

I saw multitudes of tiny branches springing from the main branch.

I have seen the shape of branches defined by snow.
(This one is from my archives. We've only had a dusting of snow this year)

I saw decorated trees with seedpods hanging from branches.

I saw mysterious branches reaching out in the fog.

I saw a squirrels nest barely hanging on to the branches.

I saw bunches of mistletoe that are usually hidden among the green leaves.

I saw twisting, bending limbs.

I saw evening light reflecting off the branches.

There is so much to see if only we would pause and look around. I hope you’ll stop for a few minutes before you go on with your day; go outside or look out the window and study the nearest tree. Marvel at its shape and texture.

It seems we here at Focusing On Life have been inspired by winter's trees. Just this week  Kelly showed us how trees can be our example in weathering the storms of life and Judy’s thoughts were on embracing the changing seasons. I hope you’re inspired by trees and our thoughts and images. I hope you'll find ways to appreciate the beauty of winter. Oh, and be sure when you find some of winter's beauty to share it in our Flickr gallery or use #focusingonlife on Instagram. We do love what you share!

Beauty in the Broken Places

by Kelly

It's one of my favorite things about where we live.

Living in a historic neighborhood, we are fortunate to have many lovely, stately, mature trees. From the glory of their spring blooms, to the welcome shade in the summer, to the amazing colors in the fall, the trees have a way of beautifying our neighborhood all year long.

But in December of 2007, it was a completely different story.

Our city was hit with a devastating and crippling ice storm.  One that destroyed many of the trees in our neighborhood.  And the ones that were able to withstand the storm were heavily damaged.

It's hard to believe that was almost ten years ago.

Thankfully, our neighborhood has recovered.  And for the most part, I don't really think about it any more.  The new trees that were planted after the storm are thriving.  The older surviving trees continue to bloom and grow with the seasons.  In fact, for the majority of the year you can't even really tell that anything happened.  Except during winter.

Because during the winter months, when the trees are bare, you can still see the scars of that terrible storm.

Gnarled branches, misshapen limbs, giant gaps in the canopy...evidence of the triage that was performed at the time. And yet, you can see where the trees are filling in the gaps with smaller limbs growing into the spaces left behind.  It's amazing really...this life force which enables them to fight and grow and thrive despite their injuries.

It seems to me that people are a lot like trees.  How that underneath the life we put out on display, all of us bear the scars of trauma and injuries.  Like leaves, the trappings and busy-ness of our daily lives tends to disguise and distract from our wounds.  Only when we are courageous enough to bare our hearts and be vulnerable, can others see the signs of storms we have weathered.

But being broken or damaged doesn't make us less valuable.  Like the mighty oaks and maples in my neighborhood, these scars add character and tell the story of survival.  Which I tend to think is immensely inspiring and interesting.  In trees and humans alike.

But beyond that, I also believe that there can be beauty in these broken places.  It happens when we allow our wounds to make us more compassionate, more empathetic souls.  It happens when we take our pain and transform it to bring hope and joy to others.  And that in a beautiful thing.

Where do you find beauty in the broken places?  We would love for you to share it with us in either our Flickr pool or on Instagram using #focusingonlife.

Until next time,

Kelly

A Measurement of Growth

by Kim

I was at my nursery several times last week, to check on milkweed arrivals, and for inspiration, and for some all around nature therapy. And a lot has happened in the two weeks since I've been there.

The peach blossoms are gone and in their place are now tiny growing peaches. The azaleas are in full bloom, and the camellia run is almost over. The bees are in full-on nectar gathering mode, and there are more and more butterflies fluttering around. The herbs are plentiful, although no egg sightings yet, the fragrance in the air is intoxicating, and, there is barely a parking space to be found. Wait, I forgot mosquitoes...yes it's March and we already have mosquitoes in Texas!

All sure signs that spring is well on her way (that, and the monarchs have left their overwintering site in Mexico).

But one of the things I really noticed, was what happened between the time I took the photo above to this one (below) . . . .

Real, tangible, evidence of growth!

But is wasn't until I was driving in the car with my husband over the weekend admiring all the new green on the trees, that I started thinking about this, because yes, leaf growth is riveting in my world.

It's something you can see, something you can measure almost like days. And I began to wonder, how do we measure our growth, can we? Sure when we are kids, through adolescence and up to adulthood, you can physically see the growth. Even emotionally through all those stages. And what about once we reach that stage of adulthood, what then?

But, personal growth is just that, personal on all levels. Some much easier to see over time, and some not so much. Sometimes we grow, and then sometimes we shrink. And the measurement is most likely not universal because it will vary greatly among us.

And even though the leaves are a sign of growth, it's inside the tree trunk in its rings where the real growth lies. Some years it grows more than others, and some years not so much.

And maybe the same goes for us as long as we are always in that process of looking [inside] at our life and changing who we really are to match our beliefs and dreams, while facing our fears. I know I have some courage to gather, and fears to face, as there are some things I've been feeling led to do.   

The trees are much more dependent on the elements they need for growth, and don't even get to choose the path they are on. We however, do get to decide what's necessary for us, to decide what is missing and how we can improve and what changes we need to make. And the biggest growth doesn't happen in just knowing this, but acting on it. And as always, so much easier said than done.

Did you watch the Winter Olympics? Do you remember Amy Purdy, the snow boarder who lost her legs when she was about 19 years old to bacterial meningitis? Her story is so inspiring and to me she is the definition of personal growth.

She asked herself this question...."If my life were a book and I was the author how would I want this story to go." It changed everything for her.

And as the author of my own book, I'm asking myself the same question, while reaching for enough courage to play myself in some of the chapters.

How to make a lemonade stand GLORIOUS!

by Kim

"Hunter, the Great Dane"

"If life gives you lemons, don't settle for simply

making lemonade - make a glorious scene at a lemonade stand."

- Elizabeth Gilbert

In September of 2008, just 5 weeks after we moved to the Gulf Coast, hurricane Ike ravaged through our communities leaving devastation in its path, with the eye of the storm going straight over us.

Fast forward to a year later and nearly half of Galveston Island's trees (almost 40,000), would be declared dead because of the saltwater from the storm surge. And ironically, many of these trees were planted after the great storm of 1900. The majesty of these great oaks nearly a century old, that had provided a beautiful canopy of shade to the Victorian homes of the Historic District . . . just gone. But if there is one thing I know about the people and the community of Galveston Island, is that they are resilient by nature and when handed a bowl of lemons, they know how to make the best lemonade. They have, after all, had a lot of practice!

In an effort to pay tribute to the service of these fallen warriors, a member of the Galveston Island Tree Conservancy came up with a very creative idea. She petitioned City Hall for permission to turn a dead tree in front of her house (not on her right of way) into a sculpture. And this was the beginning of a grassroots project that has now become one of the most popular tourists attractions on the Island.

I love how they used art as a way of healing. To transform a disaster into a thing of beauty. To find a glimpse of the silver lining in a tragedy. Sometimes it's not until well after the storm has passed (pun intended) that we can begin to contemplate just what to do with those lemons.

In Galveston, not only do they know how to make lemonade, but they know how to make a glorious scene by carving their lemons.

Still Life

by Carol

Still Life

Still Life. Nothing.



But look closer

There is a reaching.

There is a shedding of the old.

What is inside is exposed.

These things are happening to the tree.

But then , there is light

Look closer




GROWTH

Often in life, we feel stuck, still.

We complain about the things that are happening to us.

But breathe in the still.

Give the stillness time.

And you will see

Growth