Trees and the Forest
Sometimes the path appears only after we begin walking. Walk with me a bit… and see where it takes you.
Take a moment and breathe… read or listen, or do both—making room for more.
I was feeling a little confused and lost but knew I was on a path. I found an opening, but was afraid of what I’d discover if I opened the door.
I knew it was important. I closed my eyes and let myself imagine.
The energy arose as I was mowing my lawn behind my house, allowing myself to move closer to the edge of the forest. I saw an opening, and without hesitation, bravely charged forward—like going into battle with an unknown enemy riding my trusty yellow chariot.
Whoa Nellie, slow it down... That’s a lot.
Okay… It was easier than I thought. The big weeds fell to the side… no longer as tough as they looked—welcoming me into this unfettered land inhabited by who knows what.
Seeing more light, I kept edging forward a little at a time. Then I would walk on the path and reflect on what I was experiencing. I felt something opening up inside and could sense some things I didn’t notice before. So many new sensations within and between—all around me—in this sacred garden of nature.
I rested a bit. And when I awoke, my dear wife gave me a present. It was a troll leaning forward with his pants pulled down and his face turned away. It was a familiar stance as of late when visiting my urologist, Dr. B. His touch can sting a little… as he prefers to do things the old-fashioned way. At least I didn’t have to look at him.
I laughed and thought about the message my wife and the curmudgeonly old troll were sending me. At first I thought I should walk more so my pants would fit better. And as I walked, I felt the pain in my body, reminding me that there must be a deeper message.
My grandchildren were coming to visit after we hadn’t seen each other for a while. I cut some more of my growing trail and put out more trolls and fairies to welcome them and keep the old guy company—a magical little village taking shape before our eyes.
I loved it... and they loved it too. They even had a lemonade stand and guided tours to show their love and support for a close family friend with cancer—and for so many others trying to hold onto hope.
Despite the pain, it felt like a place we could play and imagine together. So much needed after COVID and everything else going on in our country and around the world. It helped me find my humor again… along with a few other things I had forgotten.
I spoke quietly to the old troll, trying not to bring any additional attention from the neighbors or local constable.
Suddenly, I knew what his butt hanging out was telling me…
Don't be so serious, Marc. Everything will be okay if you follow your heart and feel the loss—and don't try to be perfect.
I took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, like my good friend Joe teaches us in Seeking Sanity. But the air was a little stale, soon realizing I was standing next to the compost bin. Consulting my son, an expert in such matters, I found some inspiration. The compost needed more light and worms to breathe.
No longer hiding, I wrote to my family about my experience. I let them see me, even the unattractive parts, with hopes that it would help them see themselves—and they might not forget me so easily when I'm no longer here. Hopefully, not lost or alone.
The youngest, Annie, an old soul at the ripe old age of three, responded without hesitation: “Don’t worry, Papa… Life is a mystery.”
I shook my head in wonder as I watched her and her older sister, Bess, tell me about their magical village of Poughkeepsieville in their basement—where Annie was a fairy princess and Bess was the mayor, eventually sharing the duties of mayor as they grew older.
Bess kept her finger on everything—making her voice heard and dancing with everyone in the room. Annie, playing her violin and dancing in her own special way, made sure no one—person or animal—was left behind or alone. Seeing them dance together lit up my heart.
Thinking of my kids—the people they always were and are becoming—I nodded and smiled in my quiet way… delighting in the mysteries of life.
I knew they were on the right path, even though I didn't quite know what I was looking for yet.
One day, I woke up and said, “Now I know.”
“Know what?” my ever-patient wife said, soon adding, “Well, are you going to share it with me?”
Gazing softly into her eyes, I replied, “Nothing new. It's been right here in front of me all along.”
She smiled and didn't say anything. Less was more, and I knew I was home. Now I could see the forest… and it wasn't blocked by the trees.
Not so scared and alone anymore—laughing and crying, feeling the whole gamut of human emotions… appreciating the sweetness and bitterness between the layers of this multilayered cake called life.
Oh… look, there’s more… a beautiful little “Lily” just popped up—joining the light around her. Her bright eyes taking in the world… already dancing like a flower in the wind.
Still exploring and finding new paths—some across the ocean. Who knows where I’ll land next. Where in the world is Waldo?
Where does this take you? Can you see or hear the bell yet?
I’m sure there will be more. Just sitting in the light of invisibility, we can see for a long way… noticing that our real life has already begun.
Dedication: To all those on this journey of heart, moving from room to room, remembering themselves—and who we are together.
Gratitude: With appreciation for those who have shared their light and sweetness with me over the years—and received mine in return.
Confidentiality note: This piece was inspired by someone close to my heart, but is a composite of many people I know—inside and outside of therapy. Any resemblance to your own life or our shared experience is both coincidental and universal—reminding us that our stories echo one another in the fabric of human experience.
Comments or questions? You’re welcome to reach me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close… or long to be closer to.
About me: Besides being a writer, Marc Cecil is a doctoral-level licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. An experienced psychotherapist, supervisor, consultant, and teacher, Marc uses an integrated experiential model called Core Self Integration Therapy (CSIT)—grounded in our capacity for adaptive change—to help people heal from complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma. Some refer to it as Elephant Work.
Dr. Cecil lives in Vermont near the shores of Lake Bomoseen, where his heartfelt stories and images of connection arise from the light of invisibility—bringing life to therapy and therapy to life.
Stay tuned for more—as this living model continues to grow within and between us… with self-compassion leading the way around the world.