The Song Played through Time (The grace of getting do-overs)

Remember in childhood receiving or granting do-overs, the opportunity in a game of kickball or softball to try again? Do-overs came to mind as I navigated my Monday morning walk last week.

A few blocks up I noticed two men sizing up a tree, a tree I suspected that was about to come down. Things of this nature are not easy for me. I've worked at making peace with the workmen sent regularly by the utility company to trim area trees near power lines often resulting in an entire side of a tree being shaved. I try to think of these chainsaw wielding men as poet John Wright references. In one particular poem he writes "...let loggers (or in my case tree trimmers) be druids specially trained and rewarded to sacrifice trees at auspicious times.....let chainsaws be played like saxophones."

This particular morning the tree these men examined looked at least outwardly very worn, leafless and lonely. So many green and growing things have struggled due to the summer drought that ironically followed Nashville's May flood. Our summer weather pattern reminded me of our human tendencies toward extremes, all or nothing, black or white, rain or dry. These extremes seem to have taken a toll on this tree.

I walked on, turned around at the mile mark and proceeded home until I heard the sound. The whir of a chain saw, I mean saxophone. I had just the night prior heard David Sanborn making magic with his saxophone at the Ryman. I did not think of these men as making similar magic but I did immediately realize there was a magic of sorts afoot.

Their "music" provided an unexpected auditory cue taking me back to this past June when on yet another morning walk I passed an extremely large shrub being pulled up by its roots in a neighboring yard. That particular morning on my first pass I judged the young men doing the deed and I equally judged myself for not having the courage to walk over and do the thing I felt called to do, bless the shrub and invite it to let go with ease. Even during the same walk when I came upon the young men pulling up a second equally large and beautiful shrub granting me a do over, I allowed the fear of being called 'that crazy lady' keep me from being me.**

This morning, months past the first do-over, my heart's tempo picked up in excitement and apprehension. I was getting a second do-over, the one wished for in the prior situation. I was getting an opportunity in front of three strangers to love a tree, to love a tree as it was passing while feeling no embarrassment.

Whereas in June I allowed my fear to prevent me from being me, this morning I heard myself say to the owner of the house who was now outside also that I wanted to say good-bye to the tree. I walked over, kissed my palm then laid it aside the trunk of the elm.

This morning I not only got to love the tree, but also meet the man who lives in the house, the man I've said hello to occasionally in passing but whose name I've never known. Hunter, a kindred spirit, tells me he's tried to keep this elm alive for sometime and that he intends to plant another tree nearby.

This grace-filled morning a dying elm, a neighbor and two saxophone playing druids gave me a synchronistic opportunity for a do-over. I not only got to love the tree, but also love me. Rather than betray myself as happened earlier, I was true to me. I walked home feeling beautifully free.

Although a week has passed since my encounter with the tree, I awoke in the night thinking, 'There is a song played through time polishing the singer that lives inside.' This song for me orchestrates the magic woven through daily life offering do-overs.

Imagine the Shift as you awaken to and embrace the do-overs magically offered in your life each day.

-Dawn! The Good News Muse, 18 Oct. 2010

* from "Earth Prayers from Around the World" edited by Roberts & Amidon
** to read the Musing referenced "Magnets of Love" click HERE