Easter morning, walking in downtown Asheville, I rounded a corner and laid eyes upon a glorious thing. An enormous concrete griffin: half lion, half eagle, all majesty. Griffins are a combination of the king of beasts and the king of birds: great big, beautiful, mythical guardians of divinity. They symbolize strength and courage.
And this powerful being was crowned in flowers. The juxtaposition of strength and softness was delicious. Lions always bring to mind two beloved dead Leos, my husband Mike, and my friend Brenda. I admired this creature, said hello, and kept walking.
Just around the next corner, more remarkable things. Two ancient, huge English elm trees in front of a church. Old survivors radiating beauty and strength.
But beneath one tree, beneath all of that power and presence, a man who was clearly not feeling his strength or his beauty. He was wrapped up in himself, experiencing I don’t know what. I won’t pretend to know his inner state, but I can imagine it. I know that posture of hopelessness well.
The juxtaposition of his suffering against that spectacular healthy tree rising up, up, up to an explosive crown of green touched my heart.
All weekend at the Kryon Soul Healing Retreat we’d heard over and over, “you are more magnificent than you know.”
What does it take for us to begin to believe this? To come to know and cherish our own innate magnificence? To recognize that we are both living this human experience, in infinite ways, including that of the man beneath the tree AND that we are so much more?
Kryon’s words would become choked with emotion as he spoke through Lee Carroll: “If you could only see yourself. See your own magnificence…”
It was deeply touching and it’s what I felt looking at the man beneath the tree. Oh my dear, if you could only see yourself, know yourself, allow into your heart the healing grace of knowing we are so much more than this life.
Sorrow to joy. That’s been my experience in coming to know the truth about us. May we all come to recognize ~ while we’re still here ~ that we are eternally that flower-crowned griffin. And yes, we will have the beneath-the-tree experience in varying degrees and much of the time.
But knowing the truth, knowing who we really are, it is big comfort and it can become a promise that will help in the rough times.
It’s not forever, this life. Some days I can’t stand that and others, I welcome it.
When it’s done though? Flower crowns for all of us.
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*A note about the image: AI blurred the image on the left so as to render the man beneath the tree unrecognizable. That’s all the AI you’ll see here. Thank you for reading if you’ve come this far. I appreciate you.
An Unexpected Mystic 
Delightful! I love the mythical creatures and am particularly drawn to the Phoenix. Glad the retreat seems to have gone so well.
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The retreat was magical!! Thanks for reading. 💚
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Beautiful story…thank you ❤️
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Thank you for reading. 🙏🏻
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I love the mythical creatures and especially drawn to the Phoenix. So glad the retreat appears to have been a success. Perhaps the old tree is giving the man a little needed energy?
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No doubt. I think every tree we encounter is there in part for that. Radiating strength and energy to us all.💚
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Powerful images.
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One hand on my heart, the other balled into a fist, wracking sobs and angry words shouted at the ceiling. This was me as I read the words, “your own magnificence” because I feel much less than that today.
See, I am once again in the role of caregiver – this time for my little dog, born deaf and now eleven years later blinded – and we’re not sure why. Yesterday’s visit to the specialist now floods my mind with all my helpless caregiving failures of the past – and I know you know this feeling well. I am the man under the tree today. I can find no evidence of magnificence here – only smallness, ignorance and a deep longing to be more.
Your words came today, and I think it’s no accident: I needed them. They broke through my facade of keeping it together, but I know that by falling into despair and sorrow now, I am one step closer to acceptance and grace.
Thank-you for writing and taking the beautiful photos.
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Oh Marilee, I am so very sorry about your baby. And yes, we are all the man under the tree at times and nothing will prevent that because it’s L.I.F.E.
My little Boo, the second greatest love of my life, started losing her sight after 16. Having been deaf as long as I’d had her, it was too much for her to handle the loss of vision. Broke my heart. It’s so fucking hard. Sending you love and prayers today. 💙🫂💙
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