I bid farewell yesterday to some of Mama Fir’s beautiful boughs and opened up the sky to valley, mountain, and sunrise worship (and hawk and eagle viewings). My father used to keep the fir trimmed up. He’s been gone 22 years, and the house has become increasingly entombed and claustrophobic. I wasn’t aware of the elephant sitting on my chest until it fell away with the branches, and my heart expanded six tear-inducing sizes. I’m breathing deeper. Ommmmm.




Still huge. Thank you, Mama Fir.