Divine Guidance at the Crossroads of Life

Reading Time: 3 minutes

By Michael Avery

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
John Lennon, from “Beautiful Boy”

The Tree Left Standing

In a wooded area not far from Colliding Rivers in Glide, Oregon, a small fir tree was growing from the surface of an old stump. Intuitively, I knew that life was communicating with me through this uncommon event in its symbolic language, the language of waking dreams. As stated before, Carl Jung, the psychologist, called these events “meaningful coincidences.” I also knew that important details about my upcoming move to Hawaii could be known by deciphering this symbolic message.

I’d spotted the seedling during an autumn outing and decided to return with a camera one Saturday in mid-December. To my disappointment, someone had chopped down the tiny tree since my previous visit.

The odds of someone hiking into that secluded meadow and chopping down the very tree I’d singled out for my photo were extremely remote. That qualified it as a message from Divine Spirit. It is important to note that we may establish communication with an Inner Teacher, a Master, our Higher Self, or the Divine in whatever form brings us comfort. Some may prefer to use the term, “the Universe.”

To decipher messages inherent in uncommon events only requires a little awareness on our part. Generally, one or two questions will quickly find the link: “What was I thinking at the moment?” or, “What is the present focus of my life?” Uncommon events become “waking dreams” when we understand what message is being communicated symbolically.

After leaving a job at a plywood mill in my late twenties, I stood at a crossroads. I was looking forward to a fresh start in Hawaii. Taking up art was at the center of my tropical dream while I revamped my life. I wondered, Would art become more than a hobby, perhaps even a livelihood?

I had planned on using the photo of the tree as a model for painting. I was being guided through this waking dream: a painter I would not be. Instead, I wrote a poem about the tiny tree and weathered stump. While the poem was no masterpiece of literature, it pointed me in the direction I was destined to pursue—writing.¹ 

*                   *                    *

My apologies for the perfect rhymes in my first poem. Nowadays, I prefer near rhymes, where the vowel sounds rhyme, or no rhyming at all.

The Tree Left Standing

Far below a hilltop landing
I could see a stump was standing,
Bleak against the springtime greenery
Dwarfed beneath the woodlot scenery

Summer passed without my knowing
On that stump a tree was growing
Near to earth, but nearer still
To heaven’s firm but gentle will

From late November’s wind-swept hours
Fell the leaves that hid the flowers
Months slipped by, and time forgot
The weathered stump and wooded lot

But winter ways led back to ways
From springtime’s warm-remembered days
And with an axe, I soon was standing
Near a tree below a landing

In haste, I parted blade and sheath
Then spied the weathered stump beneath 
No worse for wear, though years had passed
Since we had seen each other last

Above my head, the tree rose tall
Proud and free, though still quite small
Some providence, I guessed
Had placed this seed above the rest

Perhaps destiny entwined us three—
Woodsman, stump, and noble tree
I could have cut it as I’d planned
But turned away and let it stand

Although I’ve never to this day
Returned along that forest way
Those misty memories still inspire
The hope that feeds this winter’s fire

The hope that where this life has stood
A seed redeemed from weathered wood
May in some future season bear
Should God allow, a tree more free and fair

1. Story is from Wide Awake in Dreamland, Michael Harrington, pp. 35-36.