The Real Thing

Oh my.

People so often act from a place of lack. They think about all they don’t have, and they wonder why they’re not getting the good things. They say they want and prefer “the real thing,” but they have no frickin’ idea what the real thing even looks like, and they haven’t done all the internal work it takes to figure out whether they’re ready for it, whether they can nurture it and treat it with respect and care and commitment.

Do you have reserves and resources built inside you? I want to know. Are you like a sturdy, thriving tree, able to weather storms, able to grow, able to attract all kinds of life around you? Able to radiate light and stand tall?

Or are you hollow, my dear?

‘Cause many people are, I’m sorry to say, hollow. And those dead, hollow trees are no good to anybody. We just pass by them in the forest, waiting for them to decompose.

The real thing in this life, whether it be in business, in social circles, in romantic partnerships, in family, is the tall tree whose roots are firm and planted, whose tentacles spread deep in that gorgeous earth, and whose stalk continues to grow, whose branches reach high toward the sun. The sun loves dancing with this tree, melting into her folds, flickering through her leaves, casting shadows and shapes and playing around. The real thing is the tree who makes you step back and take notice. There are lots of trees, you see. Take a walk through the forest, and you’ll pass many of them. Which is the tree that stands out? That’s the first question to consider. And second, why does that tree stand out?

Because if we’re going for metaphors here, when we’re on the move and wandering and searching, we’re not always sure what we want to find. (People say “the real thing,” so let’s call it that. Me, I’m about embodying pure truth. Let’s assume real and true is the same.) There’s a lot of beauty on our path, a lot of things to see. There are also a lot of distractions. There’s a lot of sitting and resting, or deciding where to turn, of not knowing the way. Oh, man. Can I tell you how many times I’ve been in that predicament? Not knowing what direction to head in? That sucks. Now I just pick one and trust, because I trust myself in all things, because I am aligned with my wisdom.

But getting back, say we’re on the hunt for the real thing, for Pure Truth. But we haven’t really seen it before, and we’ve only glimpsed it, so we’re not quite sure how it’s going to manifest in this physical reality. We don’t know what it’s going to look like. We don’t know how to see, because we’re in a forest with a lot of things to look at, and we’re trying to either explore or go home, or both.

What I’m telling you is that the real thing, the Pure Truth, is the thing that makes you stop in your tracks. It’s the tree that’s so brilliant and beautiful, and reaching up to the sun, that your feet feel different when you’re looking at her. You pause. You’re not rushing anymore. You’re not running away. You’re just paused. And then, slowly, you proceed toward her, because you want to sit in her boughs, because you want to feel her sturdiness against your back as you take out your apple and eat, or read, and think for a while. The sturdy tree encourages you to rest, to sit back, to finally breathe.

If you’re not in a place where you can notice that tree, and acknowledge her goodness, her power, in that radiant simplicity? If you’re so blind that you just pass her by? You’re not ready. Or if you see her, and you’re terrified, because she’s what you’ve been looking for all along, but you don’t know how to sit and eat your apple and breathe and reflect? You’re not ready. And I feel bad for you, if you’re the scared one. Because the only way to overcome fear is to go into it, to pull it up at the root by taking action, by diving in. Jeez, what are you going to do, run away? How long are you going to run? What are you after? You just don’t know yourself, sweetie, and that is so, so sad. Do better. You can.

What am I talking about?

What am I trying to say?

I meet a lot of men who say they want what’s real. But they haven’t done the work, you see. They want what’s real, and they’re only thinking about what everyone can give to them, how they can be filled through the works of other people. And they don’t know the resources they have within them. They don’t know their own treasures. All their treasures are buried, and waiting to surface. So they are grasping, or scared, or hesitant, or kind of empty, or ego-filled. They’re running on fumes of ego. That’s the hollow tree, and dude, no one wants to be around a hollow tree. People only look at it as they pass by, and sometimes they sit on it for a while, but then they pass on, ’cause hollow trees are usually ugly, and they attract a lot of moss and fungus.

We are all meant to be THE TREE. The one who attracts others with its beauty, with its steadfastness. The one reaching up toward the sun, flowering in spring, filled with leaves. The one with substance and beauty and strength. The one you want to sit next to and rest for a while before going on your way. The one you keep coming back to, because it calls you. That tree has an energy that continually calls you. And when you are confused, or spinning around, you know you can go to that tree and everything will feel better for a time.

I don’t know if “ready” actually exists. The concept may be a figment of our minds. What ready is, is a kind of emptiness. Sometimes, it is a kind of being beaten down. It is being tired and sick and hungry, and just saying Fuck it already, I’ll do what I have to do. And you give in to your life, and then you experience great pleasure and beauty because your ego is not running the show, and you’re fed up with strategy. You just flow.

But if you’re already spending your life in those moments of emptiness, of surrender, of letting go of your ego and living in your heart?

Baby, you’re ready every single day.

Every day, you are that radiant, wonderful tree, whose arms reach up toward the sun, who calls people to come gather, who says yes to life, whose brilliance just is. 

 

Photo by Dave on Unsplash