Roots… this word has been bugging me all week and I mean bugging….
I’m not really sure why… but when I get bugged… it makes me think. So it got me wondering – what does that word mean? This is what the dictionary tells me:
root – noun
1 the fungus attacks a plant’s roots: radicle, rhizome, rootstock, tuber, tap root, rootlet; rare radicel.
2 the root of the problem: source, origin, starting point, seed, germ, beginnings, genesis; cause, reason; base, basis, foundation, bottom, seat, fundamental; core, nucleus, heart, kernel, nub, essence; Latinfons et origo; literary fountainhead, wellspring, fount; rare radix.
3 (roots) he has rejected his roots: origins, beginnings, family, ancestors, predecessors; heritage; birthplace, native land, motherland, fatherland, homeland, native country, native soil
But really what I suspect I need to consider is – what does it mean to me?
Of course it could mean hair colour and a much needed trip to my lovely hairdresser. But no, that’s far too trivial and I like to think I’m not quite that vacuous.
Or could it be the wonderful oak tree that was in one of the gardens at my primary school. A tree we used to hide under and play around. One that seemed so big and strong and would protect us. One whose roots were spread so wide but clearly ran so deep. Nothing it seemed would harm that magnificent tree. That majestic piece of beauty.
Could it be my wonderful family? By family I mean my blood relations but I also mean those people who have become my family just by virtue of the time we have invested with each other. We have become each other’s people. We are on each other’s teams. We have each other’s backs. The investments that have been made run deep and long and we are grounded in each other’s lives.
Perhaps it’s London where I went to live on my own aged 20. Where I stayed until my mid-thirties before moving to the country having got married. Where I learned so much about life, about people and about growing up. London that gave me so much and taught me a great deal. The capital City where I could be in a crowd of friends or completely alone amongst millions. Where I had the best job of my life but also the worst. Where I met so many important people who are now on my ‘team’. Where dreams were made and hearts were broken.
But what keeps me grounded? What keeps me focussed and what keeps me standing tall like that oak tree? What has stopped me giving up in the hard times and just curling up and wishing the world would go away (well… only when my dog died, but you get the drift.. not being in a good place?) and that is very simply that I have a faith. A faith that through the years has been there. For many years it has been a bit wishy washy but now is much stronger. Now it is the thing that I turn to without thinking. When the chips are down, my faith gets me through. When the good times roll it’s still there and I am truly grateful. It’s my one constant and the thing I cannot live without. It’s the most important thing in my life and has changed me immeasurably.
This is where my roots lie.
This is where I am grounded and where I get my life and breath from…