A Tree Falls

If an ice covered tree falls in your backyard, do you hear it? Apparently not, this morning as I opened the door to take my dog outside, there was a tree lying on its side. I was not too surprised; Mark had mentioned last night that the tree looked iffy; I just expected more fanfare went it went down.

This downed tree ironically lies there as I read a quote from Stacy Morrison in Sunday's (it has been a busy week, and I am just getting to Sunday's paper) life section of the Detroit Free Press. She said "When a tree is being buffeted by the wind, the trees that survive are the ones that bend. The ones that are brittle and hard, they snap.

Ms. Morrison continues by adding "We're built to be resilient, but our culture falls in love with being powerful. There is weakness in resilience, but there is also the power to snap back". Morrison is sharing these comments as she talks about her book on divorce, "Falling Apart in One Piece: One Optimists Journey Through the Hell of Divorce". That one comment hit me hard. I completely agree with her that your willingness to remain resilient helps you bend back, but I am not sure I agree that it shows a sign of weakness. I believe there is strength in letting go of the power.

The tree in our backyard was already fading, so when it gave in to the weight of the ice on its limbs and fell over, it was releasing its own power and handing it over to mother nature. I have always felt that no good comes from carrying the burden of anger. When I divorced my first husband and he abandoned his responsibilities to The Friend of the Court and his daughter Ashleigh. I picked myself up, found a better job and made a life for us. I did not rock back and forth hoping he would someday come through. I do not believe that I was weak. I gave the power of resentment and anger up and moved on. Letting a person, a drug, food or anything have more power over you then you have over yourself is a tough battle to fight, but people do it every day and win. I think the weakness is your lowest low and once you are there it give you the momentum to "snap back"

My poor tree has no snap left, it quietly bit the big one last night, but the rest of us have a shot at snapping back and using our resilience to move us into a better place. I get Stacy Morrison's point, and maybe I am taking her thoughts the wrong way, but it did get me thinking and isn't that what writers are supposed to do?