They have learned to climb their first tree. One foot at a time, hand over hand, pulling their lithe bodies up. Going higher and yet...higher. The feel of bark under splayed, barefoot toes. Finally fitting snugly into the nest of branches. It is a New World View from above. A rush of pleasure not felt before... Different for them who are always looking up, to look down. A vantage point from which to take it all in, exulting in the freedom of muscle accomplishment and risk.
When I was a child, I spent many an hour in a tree. Sometimes with a friend, but often alone. Frequently I would carry a notebook with me. Whether it was a Harriet the Spy phase or the creation of a play, the notebook was all the company that I needed. From my perch I could look out upon the world and dream of dreams only a child can have. But, it was enough. Enough to dream and write, and stretch my body in many directions in order to get there. To that branch, hidden from view by numerous limbs and thick foliage.
It is vital to have that time to sit with oneself. To be still and wait for the myriad, tangled and unwoven thoughts to speak in quieter tones. I crave that time. And I crave that feeling of stretching my limbs and risking a fall.
As I watch my children climb the tree, I feel blessed that I can give them this time. For exploration, invention and daring. To witness their first tree climb. They, knowing that I am close by, yet not hovering. It is through this freedom in which their creativity blossoms. Discovering in nature the lessons that provide the foundation for their growing lives...