I’ve been waiting and watching and waiting and watching for this old tree to fall. For years it stood decaying where it stood.. held by the limbs of the tree beside it. This tree became a metaphor for much of my life. I walked past it and would debate pushing it over and instead I waited because intuitively I knew my two hands were not meant to control its time to fall to the forest floor. This tree was so dead, so rotten, that even birds would not make their home in it.. and yet it stood.. winds blew and it stood.. rains came and it stood.. ice, snow, heat, and hail.. it just held on.. until now. I feel myself rejoicing as once again it’s metaphor - it’s story is not lost on me. I will say beyond a doubt I am glad to see the hole in the Canopy this tree has left. Sayonara old friend. Let the new saplings grow! Thanks for the medicine and teachings about holding on and knowing when to let go.