Roots are symbols of anchoring and messaging. They hold on, even as they send information and stretch out. The metaphors for roots go on and on…There’s a reason people focus on “roots”– from novelists to conceptual artists and musicians. Returning to our roots honors our history and the foundations of the past–where we come from–our nourishment from the nutrients we absorb and the genetic code we received through these lines. We want to be rooted in some ways, whether that’s to a literal place (home) or support system (like plant roots) as well as a food system for survival (and enjoyment). We want to learn from the roots of music, literature, and the arts. We develop appreciation for the paths.

Roots are worthy of our attention, study, and reverence. The roots force me to watch where I’m running on the trails. Getting out of the flickering and streaming of media and consumption and into my own focus and creativity requires just being–where I am at that exact moment–on a trail.

For these reasons, I am in awe of the lifeline of the trees–their ability to form trails, to move the earth with gentle force. I also like the way that their impact remains even if the tree dies or is removed.

In fact, the roots themselves stay in tact after the tree no longer towers above. The anchors remain. They whittle themselves down to little knobs, and on a well-traveled trail, they’re polished and shine in the sunlight.

They share and entertain (intertwine) themselves with stones, moss, and plants. They yield to entryways for animals. They work with water. They’re in motion even if you think they’re sedentary.

The great blue heron is a source of inspiration. I see the heron’s legs as stable and rooted while it fishes along the shoreline. I view the heron as a running totem, even if it is very still at times.