Tag: writing community

The Melodramatic Tree

On a rural road in Southeastern Wisconsin, the Melodramatic Tree sits in front of an idyllic setting of farmland: freshly plowed and planted fields, houses, barns and silos nearby and on the horizon. But the Melodramatic Tree looks burnt black, as if it caught fire, but was put out before it was demolished. And, now, it is forever frozen in a sprawling, gasping reach to the sides and above. The contrast is stark against the reds, greens and blues of nature behind it.

The tree seems to be overreacting to something, and really, who isn’t? Or are we reacting appropriately? It certainly seems justified to splay and sprawl our limbs in outrage over the current state of our world, politics, the economy, the climate or many other issues.

It’s an appropriate response to a wacky, wacky world.

Sometimes the Melodramatic Tree is me. My mind hopping like a skipped stone making ripples, leaving them behind to move onto the next thing.

Sometimes I tease, “What happened to you, emo tree?” And on gorgeous days, I’ll think, “Oh, simmer down, Mel!”

The stories and details have spun in my head and on calls with friends. The nickname is Mel. It is not the giving tree which it calls it the passive aggressive codependent shaming tree. (Yep, I said it.)

I’ve incorporated “Don’t be a Melodramatic Tree about it!” into self-talk and jokes with friends. As in, “Am I being a melodramatic tree about this, and maybe it really isn’t a big deal?”

Maybe the tree is perfectly fine and happy. I’m reminded of Hanna Waddingham’s trick to get over performance anxiety. Before going on stage she makes herself really big – arms and legs spread wide with fingers reaching out, and her face in a big growl. And I notice how big, strong, powerful, and defiant the tree is, and remember it takes courage to take up space. And I say, “Thanks for the encouragement, I’ll stand strong today, too.”

It feels like the Melodramatic tree has more to say. And if not, that’s okay, too. But most days I don’t think the tree is being melodramatic. Most days I drive by and just appreciate the tree and mumble, “Same, tree. Same.”

My Ancestors

“Writing with the Ancestors” (SomaticWriting.com) was the perfect class for me in January. It is a tough month because my mother and sister have passed, and both of their birthdays are in January. My mother passed away in January, and my birthday is in January. 

Also, I’ve had family on my mind because my great-niece is having a baby this summer. Since this is the first child born since my mother has passed, I felt the pressure to do something matriarchal. In my family, that usually meant something crocheted as my mother was an avid crocheter. Thankfully the baby will inherit other baby blankets because my crochet skills are very slow. A blanket would not be done by the time the baby gets here, or, frankly, gets to college.

The idea though, that immediate matriarchal feeling, left me awash in thoughts of family and ancestors and what we give each other – materially and otherwise. And, how I’m someone else’s ancestor and what will I leave for them?  

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