A Practitioner’s Perspective
by Ellen Fenner, RScP
The sound of chainsaws woke me up this morning on Monday when I’d hoped to sleep in. When I went outside to investigate the source, I saw that a neighbor was finally having their vastly overgrown philodendrons brought back to a manageable size. The denuded trunks looked ridiculously small, as though they couldn’t possibly be the source of all that jungle-worthy leafiness.
It’s simple moments like this that speak to the deepest part of my being and often, right when I need it most.
Our journey through life involves periods of exponential growth, physically and mentally, when we experience the vigor to add layers of abundance and responsibility to our essential core, sending off branches and leaves to absorb the nutrients necessary for our roots and trunks to thrive. We create family, invest in careers, and become a part of something greater than ourselves in the form of community.
But there also comes a time when it is necessary and wise to prune back our sense of obligation to these parts of our lives. Nature understands this and though I can’t say whether those branches and leaves feel a sense of loss in experiencing separation, I do know that they have served their purpose in providing nourishment to the parts of the plant that will continue to support new generations of growth.
There is a lesson here for us. Author, Adam McHugh wrote about it this way – “Sometimes the old parts of your life, even when they were good and essential in a past season, can become a hindrance to new growth. They must be removed to give space for the new version of yourself to flourish. Pruning will make the fruit of the next season that much sweeter, the wines of the new vintage deeper and richer. Death makes a way for life.”
My neighbors, long hidden behind this abundant growth, will likely go through a period of feeling exposed as the view that they have opened also allows us to see them better. This is the vulnerability of the spiritual journey — being seen for who we truly are becoming underneath the layers we’ve carefully cultivated to keep us safe and hidden. Yet, each time we choose to expose another layer we reveal how strong our core has become.
As a spiritual community we are a beautiful, leafy green plant, sharing abundantly for the sake of our collective growth, and though some will prune themselves away and others simply cease to thrive in their human form, every single one of us will have become a ring in the trunk and the light that our transition makes way for reveals another unique aspect in this magnificent work of nature that is our spiritual family.
May we always continue to grow in new ways, individually and collectively!