The trees are never still

I used to think of trees as nature's statues—ancient sentinels standing guard, unmoved by the world spinning around them. From the window of a passing car or during a hurried walk, they seemed frozen in time, their massive trunks and reaching branches fixed against the sky while the rest of us rushed by in our constant motion.

But then I learned to stop. To really stop.

I learned to sit at the base of an old oak, to rest my back against its rough bark and simply watch. At first, everything feels still. But then, like eyes adjusting to darkness, you begin to see differently. The treetop high above starts to reveal its secret dance—branches swaying in winds too gentle for me to feel at ground level. Leaves turn and flutter, each one adjusting its position throughout the day like tiny solar panels seeking the sun. A cascade of golden light filters through the canopy, shifting patterns painting the ground in ever-changing shapes.

Even in the quietest moments, when the air feels perfectly still, the tree is moving. Beneath the bark, water flows up from deep underground, feeding every branch and leaf. Under my feet, roots are reaching through the soil, weaving an intricate web that stretches far beyond what we can see. The trunk itself is subtly expanding and contracting with the day's rhythm of water and warmth.

This morning, I watched a spider's web strung between two branches catch the dawn light. As the breeze moved the branches, the web flexed and stretched but never broke. The spider had built with movement in mind, knowing that rigidity wouldn't survive here. The trees know this too—their strength lies not in standing immobile against the wind, but in knowing how to move with it.

There's wisdom here, in these quiet giants that have mastered the art of constant, graceful motion. They remind us that nothing in nature truly stands still. Change isn't something that happens to us—it's what we are. Like trees, we're always growing, always reaching, always adapting to the light and shadows that pass through our lives.

Now when I walk in the forest, I see a world in constant motion. Every tree tells this story, if only we slow down enough to read it. Stop for a moment. Look up through the branches. Watch how they move, how they dance. They've been doing this all along, waiting for us to notice.