The last morning had a thick layer of clouds, muting the light. When Nahum sent us outside for a contemplative walk, I started up the trail up to Box Canyon. I had traveled 30 minutes up the trail then turned around return to where the group was gathering.
Alongside the path there was a large juniper tree, with a massive trunk, lots of twisted gray wood and only a few branches with foliage. Its half-dead condition was like so many others I had seen along the trail. Yet, there was a remarkable profusion of bright green and yellow sprouts coming out of the trunk hear the bottom. I stepped off the trail to look at it more closely.
As I pulled up the camera and took a few exploratory shots, a bright column of sunshine broke through the clouds and lit up the tender branches. The green became more intense, the yellows shining with the warm light. I shot from several angles before the sunlight was stopped by the clouds a minute later. I offered a prayer of gratitude and felt deep joy.
Although much of the year was spent grieving what is dead, I recalled and began nurturing a different part of myself. Significant knowledge and skills had been rejected by that former workplace. In my old wood, I found new and tender growth emerging from a deep internal source, cautiously reaching out into the harsh world. New growth was emerging from seemingly dead part of myself.
This is my new image for growth into a new life.
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