I used to run up, or ride my road bike up, this one huge hill it at least once, if not twice a day. When I eventually made it to the top, I always saw this image.
I snapped this photo later in the day one afternoon, but in pretty much all shades of daylight, the tree looked to me like a woman dancing her heart out, kicking up her heels, and swinging her hair to some wild drum beat (with kinda out-of-proportion legs, muscle-bound legs). Every time I crested that hill, I would look at this woman-tree and she inspired me. She stood there every day, all day, without wavering. She weathered crazy storms, at least one fire I know of, and constant ocean mist.
She still stands.
Maybe she’s still there because she’s protected by other nearby trees? Or, maybe, her roots ran extra deep? I’m not sure. Many others who have ran or biked with me up that hill didn’t immediately see what I saw as we approached the top.
“Hey Jen, do you see the dancing woman-tree now? C’mon, she’s right there.”
“Where?”
“Right there! Don’t you see her? You’re just messin’ with me…”
“No, where? What are you talking about??”
Now I like to think that maybe I am the only one that could see her. But, I guess that’s OK. I can tell myself that she was put there to help me get up that hill, when I needed her most: my heart pounding, my muscles aching, lactic acid running through my body.
But, really, I guess it is not that far from the truth. Science has shown that when we “see” an image it is really a crazy complex version of the physical object and basically a patchy summary of data coming into your occipital lobe [note: interesting that vision and recognition are processed in the same region of the brain, yes?].
How our mind interprets images is based on memory, relationship, perception, encoding, and about 10,000 things I’m forgetting. Consider, and open the door of possibility, that what is there may really be the thing you want if you will only let yourself see.
*I* can see her
Thank you, Jay. Thanks for letting yourself see her with me!
