Verse 8 of the Tao Te Ching instructs us that “the best way to live is to be like water”. But today I couldn’t be like water. Today I needed to be like a beech tree. I didn’t make it to my spot because I felt too edgy, too restless. I needed to be somewhere else. I needed to walk. I knew if I were to sit in silence any longer I would self-destruct. So, I forced myself to move – to fall into a rhythm, to escape the doldrums of my weekly cycle.

White Clay wasn’t far enough away, so I planned my escape carefully. I was going to Maryland – to Fair Hill. I needed to find solace in the old abandoned buildings scattered throughout. I needed to find hope on the narrow, winding trails. I needed to learn how to be like a beech.

And the more I walked and let my mind escape, the more I learned.

Be like a beech tree.

Grow tall and straight. You are beautiful and you have nothing to hide. Reach your hands to the sky. Stretch them high. You have so much left to achieve, so much more to learn, so much space left to grow.

Root yourself in the ground. You’re not going to be moved. Through every storm; every gust of wind, every strike of lightning – you are not going anywhere.

Receive help when it’s time to shed the old. Only when a beech tree sheds its old leaves, can it begin to open the new ones. Though sometimes, even the trees have trouble letting go. Beeches keep a tight grip on their leaves throughout winter and must let go of them when spring arrives. If they can’t shake them, they call out for the one that can.

A slight breeze through limp brown leaves sounds like the music of a rattle through the forest. Yet when the breeze is strong enough, it tugs at the leaves, pulling them off one by one – forcing the tree to let go.

Beeches are big, strong, beautiful things. But even they need help. I wonder if the rattle of these leaves is a signal for the wind to pull harder – if it’s the sound of a beech tree in distress.

I saw a beech that had lost all its former leaves. It was ready to bloom. The leaves were beginning to unfold from their winter hiding spot. They felt soft and fuzzy. Several minutes later I came across a younger beech that rattled with each gust of wind. This tree still had many brown leaves and seemed to have trouble letting them go. The wind would be its savior. I placed a hand on the smooth coldness of its gray bark, feeling the invisible connection that drew me here. In that moment I realized the importance of where I was. This was the place I needed to be – where I would learn how to be like a beech tree.

I saw the leaf I needed. It shook in the wind. I reached my hand out and it came off without any resistance.

            It was time to let go.

I felt the fragileness of the leaf in my palm. Afraid of crushing it, I held it gently cupped in both hands. I had a long walk ahead of me – almost an hour still to go. Keeping the leaf safe was difficult, and many times I wondered why I was so compelled to carry it with me. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to keep it as a reminder on my nightstand or if I was going to keep it until I got bored. But I had a feeling I knew why I was carrying it. I was learning how to be like a beech.

I kept it with me until I arrived at the creek. If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve thought I was back in White Clay. I sat next it in silence and watched the water flow.

I sat in silence holding the leaf.

I realized that to be like a beech is not easy. It’s hard. Beech trees are not silent. When they need help, they cry out to the wind. They cry out for help getting rid of the baggage. The baggage of days gone by. They cry out to keep that baggage from inhibiting their future growth. That is what it’s like to be a beech tree. When I need help, I can’t be silent.

For the sound of silence is a terrible thing.

“’Fools’, said I, ‘you do not know. Silence like a cancer grows.”

It was time for me to be like a beech tree and cry out to the wind for help.

“Hear my words that I might teach you.”

It was time for me to be like a beech tree and receive the help that is there, awaiting the call.

“Take my arms that I might reach you.’”

It was time for me to be like a beech tree and, finally, let go.

I walked to the bridge that crossed the creek. I stood on the railing and looked down. It was time to let go. And so, I did. I opened my hands and let the small, tan leaf drift slowly to the water below. I watched as it floated under the bridge and down the creek. I watched as it turned into a speck. I watched until I could see it no longer. Then I silently vowed to be stop being silent.

It was time to let go.

The Tao Te Ching highlights the goodness of water. But today, I learned the strength of a beech tree.