The Tree of Resilence

Last week I embarked on a silent retreat in the mountains of Big Bear for a much-needed reset—to shift the energy of my body and my spirit. There, I met a tree I won't soon forget.

A juniper, more than 1,500 years old, stands tall on the grounds of the retreat center. On one side, she is magnificent—towering, green, and full of life. On the other, she bears the unmistakable scars of being struck by lightning: gutted, charred, and hollowed out.

And yet, she is still standing.

Still growing.
Still thriving.

They call her the Tree of Resilience.

I found myself in awe of her beauty—not the vibrant, healthy side, but the raw, burned, and empty side. I thought about how often we believe resilience means being untouched by what happens to us.

But maybe resilience looks more like this tree: carrying the scars, making room for what has been lost, and continuing to reach toward the light.

Two sides. One incredible story.

What a powerful reminder that what has wounded us does not have to be the end of our story. Sometimes, it becomes part of what makes our story extraordinary.

I needed to see this tree—to remind me to stay rooted. Stay resilient. Keep reaching for the light.

And that is exactly what I intend to do.

I wish the same for you.

With much love,