Look at the old tree, bent over, limbs ripped off, moss and lichen seeking his presence. The bark is worn in places and the smoothness of its youth is gone. My soul rejoices in seeing the ancientness of this tree and I wonder about what it has all seen. Bowing down I honor his wisdom. Nothing can replace the richness of experience, the knowledge of the power of storms, of drought, of water overflowing and of survival. This strength is not something to be passed on with words, only lived experience turns it into a precious knowingness that is supporting and informing the whole, each individual experience becoming a facet of the collective unified field and contributing to the well-being of all living beings. What power is given to us, what deep meaning in every battle fought. We are so blessed.
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