Before

Before.

When the roots were new.

When the roots were new, beginning to anchor themselves in the ground, making a foundation for growth.

Before. Before branches and leaves grew thick and wild, catching whatever wind came by, swaying and twisting with breezes, gusts, storms. When the beginnings of existence were just life.

Now the tree is overgrown, branches and leaves creating density.

Pruning is what is needed.

A friend and I were recently discussing New Year's Resolutions. I told her that I hated making resolutions as I associated resolutions with - something that is broken, not kept. She then related to me that the Latin root of resolve means to let go. Naturally, I looked that notion up before committing it to this blog post. Because heaven forbid I should get something so important wrong. A lot riding on that word.

"I find it very interesting that the Latin root for resolution, resolve, and solve is solvere, which means to loosen or let go. How odd … This suggests to me that in order to keep New Year’s resolutions—determined solutions to perceived problems—then perhaps the trick is to let go" Steve Lee
http://wilmingtonfavs.com/2013/01/02/perhaps-the-trick-is-to-let-go/#sthash.Sx3VTDUr.dpuf.

Perceived problems. Hmmm … still this notion of something being broken. Life - and perhaps myself - as something needing to be fixed. But these are just words. Like the word resolution itself, they will have whatever meaning I attach to them. Getting to the root of the word allowed for new meaning. Space. I could breathe with this.

So, the question arises: What do I wish to let go of in this New Year? This month? This week? Today.

One item is fear. I wish to let go of feeling afraid. Unafraid = Feeling confident. Trusting myself. Being myself.

Going after things that matter with a heart full of faith. Being cognizant of good, better, best. Let's go for better and best, shall we?

What am I afraid of, you may ask? It doesn't matter. Enough to know "it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good."

"Who doesn’t love the idea of starting fresh and looking forward? Resolutions are an opportunity to look ahead and let go of the past. The Latin root for resolution is resolvere, meaning to loosen, release and dissolve. Often there’s something we need to dissolve in order for something new to emerge … We can achieve our resolutions and goals by being connected to our intentions rather than driven by insecurities. A common example is the New Year’s resolution to lose weight. Your stated goal may be “lose 10 pounds.” Your intention could be to “feel more connected to my body.” Notice how the intention comes from a place of kindness rather than a place that may be based in needing approval or validation from something outside of yourself." Rachel Allyn

Kindness. I like that. But what if I don't wish to let go of parts of my past? What if I wish to return to my roots? To return to before.

Our first home had a lovely rose bush out back, against an east facing side wall. Ideal location for growth, if given enough water and nutrients. The bush produced large, multicolored blooms, perfect for cutting. So very beautiful, and free for the taking.

I am not a gardener by any stretch of the imagination. I can handle a hose, and that is about it. And it's all I care to do. But my dear rose bush required pruning. So, I got out our gardening book, filled with lovely photos and practical advice. (If I don't know something these days, I google, instead of looking up the answer in books. I am VERY good at googling. And darn proud of it. I can find you the answer to almost any question you might pose.)

I discovered that in order to prune my bush, I would need to cut the branches. Like, almost all of them. The goal was to get down to the original canes that grew flush with the base of the bush. Doing this allows for bigger blooms come the following spring.

OH, THE FEAR. I worried that pruning the roses would hurt them. How could my rose bush ever come back in all it's glory, with so much cut away? I was terrified I would make a mistake and ruin the bush for good. What to do? I was the only one who would be taking care of that bush. It was up to me. After careful study of the diagrams in our book, I tentatively picked up my tools and began hacking away.

Amazed. Even with all that cutting, it came back - and then some. The blooms were as large and beautiful as ever. New branches grew, with new buds. The rose bush flourished, providing flowers from May to October. I learned how to cut at just the right spot to allow for new growth. Pruning and cutting was an ongoing process, but I learned to see the form of the branches and where space was needed between them. I learned what to cut. I learned what to let go.

To let before guide it's growth.

Before.

Before fear, perfectionism, other voices, worry, too much responsibility, too much busyness, too many branches and leaves. When before existed in excitement, dreams, trust, possibilities, laughter. And an absolute belief - faith - in all of it.

Unafraid.

Stages

I walk into the master bedroom of our new home and turn on the dresser lamp. The light casts a soft, comforting glow. I then close the blinds. I well know the effect the lamp light will have to the outside from the clerestory windows. I have set the stage, as it were, not only for any one passing by, but also for myself. I will leave the room for now, but there is some comfort in knowing it is ready for my return when bed time approaches. I'm just funny that way.

If any one were to see my pinterest boards, they would see the interplay of stillness and motion that captivate my mind and my senses. The time for motion this day is over; stillness reigns.

I think of the lake just a few blocks away. I can't see it at night, but I know it is there. I know of the hundred geese or more which land on the lake in the fall. One can hear their honking (to each other?) as they fly above in formation; they then alight onto the water with a small splash and settling of wings.

I know of the iron and wood bridges one can cross for a view. Or one can take the walkways under the bridges, water to one side, curved stonework on the other. For a moment I am transported, imagining the bridge walkways in Paris to be somewhat like this. Only in Paris one might be surrounded by soft city lights; here one is surrounded by lavender and various indigenous plants. (I never can remember their names. Memory often fails me these days.)

I like to think of the cool, dark pathways. I wish I could walk them more often.

Setting the stage of living: waking, usually falling back asleep for a bit, breakfast ad unloading the dishwasher, perhaps starting a load of laundry. Resting, watching a bit of TV (Royal Pains on Netflix at the moment), FB for variety and conversation. Perhaps a walk barefoot along the grass near the lake, then digging my toes into the sand along our little beach. Indian summer allows for such a pleasure at this time of year. But this short activity must be done towards the middle of the day.

Later, exercise to keep my EDS at bay for as long as possible. Usually a phone call from darling daughter. A light dinner.

TV with darling husband, or, if is not too late, a walk around the lake. My eventual goal is to make it all the way around.

Sunset. One day melds into another.

Maybe I am just getting older, and that is fine by me. I'll live life as it comes, no more running to and fro as I used to. I'll practice listening. I'll practice writing. I'll practice feeling. I'll practice loving. Some nights, and if my wrist strain ever heals - darn EDS - I'll practice dancing.

Everything will work out. The bedroom light continues casting it's spell.