Belonging
Belonging is what it looks like to thrive, not by standing alone and being strong, but by being connected to something that sustains you.
We were deep in the forest, and the light had been dim for a while, when a patch of sunlight found its way through and landed at our feet. I crouched to look at the moss covering an enormous fallen trunk. Soft, warm-yellowed, and extraordinary in its detail. The more I looked, the more I saw. The contrast between the moss's softness and the bark's deep strength. The texture of each against the other. The way the warmth of the colour pulled me in despite the stillness of the subject.
The moss is not surviving despite its small scale. It is flourishing because it belongs within something. It works as a community, and in doing so it helps the tree survive. The tree is part of the forest, and the forest has been here for hundreds of years. Nothing in this image is thriving alone. Everything is held within a relationship to something else.
We often believe that strength means self-sufficiency. That we should need less from others, hold more together by ourselves, require less support. Belonging quietly argues the opposite. You do not grow despite connection. You grow through it. This is the piece I think of when I remember rebuilding after a difficult year, when I was reconnecting with friendships I had let dwindle, and learning again that I didn't have to do it alone.
