We all know how it begins – sit up straight! Breathe! Imagine your spine as the trunk of a tree…
Back up. Let’s start over.
Your spine is not the trunk of a tree. These trees are not slender, gently curving things; they are great columns, their heavy bodies broad and fat with life. They spread their roots, sprawling, across the earth, building arches of them to support their titanic selves, like the sort of tree you might imagine marks a gateway between worlds.
Your spine is a slender hint of heartwood hidden in the depths of the tree. Your body begins to flesh it out, but you are not broad enough to hold that much life. Settle yourself firm upon the earth where you sit, and feel yourself broaden, your roots grasping the earth like so many wide-spread fingers, gathering in life. How much girth can you encompass, how many years?
Follow your roots as they plunge beneath the soil, down into the darkness beneath. Let them find the secret ways into the hidden places of the world, the deep wells. Let the cathedral arches of your questing tendrils mark the caverns of the spirits, twining like columns in the vastness of the blessed lands. And here beyond they touch groundwater, and you drink it up, drawing the sweetness of life with it. This is the benevolence of Nun which you taste, the richness of possibility, the concealed flow that opens the potential for life under your roots. Draw it up, bring it to light, through your roots, past the gate of morning which is made of yourself and your shadow twin as you shine like green turquoise at dawn. Let it run through you, your sap sweet as milk, able to feed those you bring close.
Bring the water up into your heart, the well of possibility, the potential that roots in the great sea of maybe-this-shall-come-to-be. Draw it up and let it expand outwards, unfurl your branches, bringing the well of life just that tiny amount closer to heaven. Drink in the sunlight that you welcome up out of the depths at dawn; let the heat of noon shape the potential that rests fluid within you into forms and names.
The light flows into you, gathered into the embrace of your branches, shimmering illumination down the water you have gathered. You take and hold the solar fire, letting it flow through you, mingling with the milk you carry within. As your leaves slant towards the beautiful West in the evening, bring forth fruit: where the water of the possible is illuminated by the actual, taking form in sweet, moist golden spheres, rich to the tongue and cleansing to the bodies of your children, who rest in the shade of your branches and are sustained.
Hold this place, your roots deep in the moist depths beyond even the world of the spirits, your branches spread to take in the light of heaven. Become broad and fat with life, for you have what is needed: the generation of water and fire and the sweet breath of the wind.