Just like a tree sheds its leaves in the fall, our growth depends on our ability to let go of the defences we no longer need.
Over time, we all build up layers of protection, walls we put up to guard ourselves from hurt, rejection, or disappointment.
These defences might have served us well in the past, helping us through tough times, but as we grow, they can start to hold us back.
Imagine a tree trying to grow with all its leaves and branches tightly clenched. It wouldn’t get very far. To reach its full potential, a tree needs to shed its old leaves, loosen its grip on what’s no longer useful, and allow new growth to take place.
The same goes for us.
When we soften and allow ourselves to let go of old defences, we create space for new experiences, relationships, and growth.
It’s not always easy, it can feel vulnerable, even scary, to lower our guard.
But it’s through this softening and loosening that we make room for the things that truly nourish us.
Take a moment to reflect on what you might be holding onto that no longer serves you.
Maybe it’s a habit of closing yourself off from others, or a fear of failure that’s keeping you from trying something new. Whatever it is, consider whether it’s time to shed that old layer.
As we let go of these defences, we open ourselves up to new possibilities.
We grow stronger, not by holding on tightly, but by learning to release, adapt, and grow in new directions.
Just like a tree, our true strength comes from our ability to be both rooted and flexible, letting go of what we no longer need so we can grow into who we’re meant to be.
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G's Tips for Rebuilding is short and inspirational and is sent out on a Saturday (usually!). Think of it like a little nugget of wisdom that I’ve learned and am sharing with you.
This is one of my favourite poems. My sister sent it to me because she knows how much strength I draw from my forest walks.
When I am Among the Trees
Mary Oliver
When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily. I am so distant from the hope of myself, in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often. Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.” The light flows from their branches. And they call again, “It's simple,” they say, “and you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.