Lessons from the Trees: A Walk Toward Mindfulness
- hellothisonelife
- Apr 29
- 3 min read
This past weekend, I had the chance to co-lead a retreat at Timber Creek Retreat House, near Drexel, Missouri. The retreat house sits on 80 peaceful acres, not far from where I grew up. Every time I visit, it feels like coming home.
On Saturday afternoon, we had some free time, so I decided to hike the trails that weave through the woods. Before I set off, I told myself I would try to listen to what the trees had to teach me. Here are a few of the lessons I picked up during my walk. Maybe a few will connect with you too.
At the beginning of my hike, I noticed tree stumps scattered along the trail—some small, some wide and weathered. Each stump told a story. Some trees lived short lives, others stood tall for many seasons. But no matter how long they lived, they left something behind. It made me think: we’re not so different. No matter how long or short our lives are, we leave something behind too.
A little farther in, I came across a tree covered in sharp thorns. It made me think of how life can get pretty thorny sometimes. It also reminded me of the crown of thorns that was smashed into Jesus’s head and the pain he must have felt with those thorns. I found myself pausing and thinking about the deep pain through tough times in my past. I felt a real spiritual connection with this particular tree.
Not long after, I found a tree with big, tangled limbs growing in every direction. It made me laugh because it looked like it couldn't decide which way to grow, so it just went wherever it felt like. It reminded me of times when I felt pulled in too many directions, unsure where to go next.
Then I noticed a thin, tired-looking tree, its bent-over limbs shaped like candy canes. It hardly had any green leaves left. It looked worn out. I could relate to that feeling—those times when life feels so heavy that you’re just dragging yourself through the day, with nothing left to give.
Closer to the retreat house, a beautiful redbud tree caught my eye. Its bright, heart-shaped leaves felt like a little wink from God, a reminder that beauty and joy are often closer than we think.
Deeper into the woods, I came to a bridge over a creek. Near the water's edge, a huge tree stood with half of its roots exposed where the soil had washed away. It wasn’t thriving, but it was still standing—supported by the roots that were still strong. It made me think about the support systems in my own life, and how even when some things fall away, the parts that stay can keep us going.
Later, I spotted a tall, skinny tree. Its branches were bare—except for a bunch of green leaves way up at the top. It made me smile and think, Sometimes you just have to look up.
On the trail, tree roots often stuck up across the path. On small hills, they worked like natural steps, giving me something sturdy to step on so I wouldn’t slip in the mud. I thought about how the “roots” in my own life—my relationships, my faith, my inner strength—help me stay steady when life gets messy.
And just before I finished the hike, I spotted a stocking cap someone had placed on a fallen tree. It had a big smiley face on it. It made me laugh out loud and reminded me not to take myself too seriously. Life is lighter when we remember to smile.
All of these little moments are examples of mindfulness—simply noticing what's around you. Mindfulness doesn’t have to mean sitting still for hours or clearing your mind of every thought. It can be as simple as using your five senses: noticing what you see, hear, smell, taste, and feel in any moment.
Right now, take the next 30 seconds and just notice. What sounds do you hear?What colors do you see? How does the air feel around you?
You don't have to do it perfectly. Mindfulness is more about showing up to the moment than about getting it right.
These are the lessons the trees taught me. What lessons might nature be waiting to teach you?
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