For instance, I see beauty in this tangled mess:
Transplanted from a five-gallon bucket in 1939, the tree has expanded well beyond its origins. Its roots grow down, creating the illusion of multiple trunks when in actuality, there is only one. I first visited this tree as a child, and seeing it again last month was like running into an old friend.
A big, old friend:
In my heart, I know that there is beauty in aging, growing, branching out and expanding our horizons. Now, if I can just convince my inner critic that my heart is right, wrinkles are a road map of life’s journey and that aging is a privilege, that will be a beautiful thing!