The first thing I look for every morning when I get up and out of bed is this tree, tall and proud and alone out in a huge corn field in the valley across from the farmhouse, perhaps a half-mile away. I call it My Tree because I once swore an oath to it that I would stay true to my wish for a life of self-determination, no matter where it led. At the time, and still, I have believed – as Joseph Campbell wrote – that human beings are either mythically  or security driven. The people who come up to me at readings and clasp my head and tell me of their dreams would be mythically driven. I don’t imagine too many people who are security driven would love this blog or hang around too long, although they are very welcome.

Thoreau urged us to live in the direction of our dreams, and there we would find happiness, love, creativity and purpose. He worshiped the idea that everyone dances to their own drum, and we have no right to tell anybody else how to dance. I believe he was correct and I work every day to do that. My Tree has stood out in the pasture for as long as anyone can remember, and the farmers over the years have cut down all of the other great trees that once surrounded it. None of them could bear to take this one down. It stands as a witness to time and place, and has great presence.

I talk to the tree of Moral Identity. What I want in life. A considered life.  With laughter and connection. Animals feed my humanity and compassion, and the better I treat them, the more my life seems to grow. I am still at it, Tree, as are you. I am making my own decisions, learning to trust myself, to live in hope and light.

I won’t quit, and I know you won’t either. I know one morning I will look out my window and you will be gone, chopped down, taken by loggers, bulldozed or splintered by lightning. Or perhaps I will go first and you will not hear my voice one morning, across the misty fields. But I appreciate you. You inspire me every single day to turn away from anger and fear and cruelty and to live a good life filled with love.

I have talked to the Tree every morning to tell us how it is doing, but I have never visited it. I have an itch to do that if the farmer will let me.