Tonight I climbed a tree. I was sitting watching the sunset and the tree was in my way. So I climbed it thinking I would see better, but that was not the case. Though once I was up there I decided that peering out between the branches to watch the sunset was wonderful.
There is something sacred about climbing a tree. Something about affirming the strength and age of a living being. Feeling the bark. Hiding in the leaves. Using the natural growth patterns to your advantage. The communion of me and the tree, fellow created beings.
Climbing the tree was actually not easy. The moment I started I realized that it had been way too long since I had last climbed a tree. Even my sporadic rock climbing does not really compare to climbing a tree. Doubt quickly crept in and started freaking me out. I imagined my body laying on the ground and realized that with Ben not home no one would know I was missing for hours. I wondered what the dogs would do. Then I made myself stop and reminded myself that this, more than anything, is why kids can climb better than I can: less fear. I remembered my brother as a child far, far up in the tippy-top branches of big trees. And with that thought I relaxed. Then the dogs got restless, I climbed down, and we went home.
Then I painted. I did another crevice piece, breaking through the panel to show the "inside."