She is one of my first pauses on my way to Maxwell Wildlife Sanctuary in New Mexico. She stands alone and seems to dwarf the mountains in the background. There is something special about the way she just stands, still, silent and yet never mute.During the winter Bald Eagles have sat upon her branches, their white heads mirroring the snow on the ground and the clouds in the sky. It is the white of their heads against her gray branches and trunk that allows me to see them.

Today was the pink day I wrote of earlier.  I watched as a little girl became a princess for an hour. As I simply watched, not interfering or joining, the whisper returned the image of the tree. I can offer spring’s buds of hope and growth, summer’s shade, autumn’s wondrous adornment, and winter’s stark benches for others to rest. No matter the gifts I offer. The true gift, my gift, is simply standing. Being.  Never questioning where the seed was planted and the earth the roots have grasped. To know the contentment of just standing. Being.

I see the Bald Eagles resting on her winter stark branches because their white heads are in stark contrast to her gray winter’s trunk and branches. And so as I sat and watched the princess I tried to notice what was different so I could see. I saw a princess in sparkly white, wearing a tiara with purple jewels, and waving a matching jeweled magic wand. What was different? I saw a tree inside of me. I saw the magic.