A couple of weeks ago, I stood before a tree growing out of a crevice in the mountain.
Its roots clung to just a few centimetres of soil wrapped around solid rock.
At some point, I imagine lightning must have struck it. Deep scars ran through its trunk. Only a handful of branches still carried leaves.
I was mesmerised about the inherent beauty of life unfolding.
Every fibre of that tree was alive.
Every twist in the trunk, every weathered branch seemed to be in conversation with the wind, the rain, the sun and the earth.
It wasn’t beautiful because it was perfect.
It was beautiful because it had lived — and dared to grow from the most impossible spot.
As I stood there, I realised why this tree moved me so deeply.
Not because it reminded me of nature.
Because it reminded me of life as we all experience it somehow.
I met and keep meeting extraordinary people.
Sensitive people.
Creative people.
Deep thinkers.
People who have questioned everything.
And people who have “made it” financially and professionally.
And so many quietly apologise for their lives.
I’ve never had a straightforward career.
I’ve changed direction too many times.
I should have figured this out by now.
I feel like I have nothing to show for myself.
But compared to what?
Rows of identical trees, growing under perfect conditions, protected from storms and carefully pruned into uniform shapes.
Or the tree in the mountains?
Which one do you recognise yourself in?
There is no better tree.
Perhaps the more interesting question is:
How do you relate to the tree that you are, metaphorically?
Somewhere along the way, we’ve inherited the idea that a good life should be neat.
That we should know where we’re going.
That our choices should make sense.
That our wounds should eventually disappear.
But life isn’t like that.
We are shaped by how we look at what happened to us — and by how we meet what happens.
Loss and Love.
Heartbreak and Joy.
Failure and Unexpected turns.
The things we couldn’t yet get….trauma in many ways.
I am sensing into the marks that life left. What about you?
And for me, the question isn’t how to get rid of those marks.
Perhaps it’s whether we can meet ourselves there.
Not to become someone else.
But to come home to more of who we already are.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.
Hence the silence from my end.
I’ve been listening, questioning, sensing and allowing some things to unfold rather than rushing to put them into words.
And I’ve been thinking about how much energy I — and we — spend holding ourselves together.
Wanting to be certain.
Wanting to be liked.
Wanting to get it right.
Wanting not to feel what we feel.
Wanting to become the person we think we should be.
What happens when, for a moment, we stop?
Perhaps you can pause here with me and take a breath.
Feel your body where you are and notice what is here for you.
Notice your mind and maybe a feeling, an emotion rising?
Maybe tension somewhere in your body.
Maybe nothing obvious at all.
Can you simply notice, without needing to change it?
And then, with a little curiosity:
What is actually happening in me right now?
Not what should be happening.
Not what you think it means.
Just what is here.
Sometimes, something shifts.
Not because we fixed ourselves but because we finally meet ourselves.
This is the space I love to work in.
Not another self-improvement project or another technique to master.
But a space where we can slow down enough to listen — to the body, to feeling, to thought, and to what we already know somewhere inside.
To become curious about the stories we carry, and to stay with what is uncomfortable without immediately turning away.
From there, we may discover that we have more freedom than we thought.
Not the freedom to control everything but the freedom to choose how we meet what life brings.
I think we are all, in some way, like that tree.
Weathered and changed by meeting life.
Still in relationship with everything around us.
Feeling Freedom in being alive. And nothing more to become.
So I wonder:
What has shaped the tree you’ve become — if you like that metaphor?
Take a moment, and beneath all the stories, expectations and things you think you can be —
where do you feel most alive?
If these questions touch something in you, you can simply reply to this email. I’d genuinely love to hear what comes up.
And if you find yourself wanting to explore this way of working more deeply, my Deep Dive is a place to begin — a one-to-one space to slow down, listen and meet yourself more fully.
With warmth, Lars