I recently spent a week in San Francisco. It was beautiful and I had a great time. One of the highlights of my trip was a visit to Muir Woods National Monument to see the redwoods. My friend and I arrived extra early, so as to beat the busloads of tourists (like me, lol).
It was so quiet and serene, almost unreal walking among the breathtaking, majestic trees. I decided to stop in a spot called “The Cathedral” that is so special that there’s a sign asking you not to talk while you’re there. That seemed the perfect place to sit and BE. I motioned to my friend that I was going to visit for a while and she nodded and went on ahead. I sat on the bench in that amazing grove of trees, that cathedral and I felt something I haven’t felt a lot in my life – safe. I imagined that those trees were watching over me, keeping me from harm. They were loving me unconditionally and I was loving them right back. Even as I’m typing this, my eyes are tearing up from the memory. I sat on that bench and cried. I cried because it felt safe to do so. I cried for all the times when I couldn’t cry. I cried because I felt like I mattered in that moment, at least to those trees. I cried for all the times when I felt I didn’t matter to anyone. I felt tiny and expansive at the same time. I felt hopeful. I felt like I was going to be okay. It felt good and I am so grateful to my graceful, leafed guardians for being there for me.
I will never forget my time in “The Cathedral”.