Into the Woods (Apparently… I’m a Tree Now)

The past few days, apparently, I’ve been living Into the Woods, and not subtly.
Somewhere along the way, my writing turned into trees, roots, forests… the full arborist starter pack. And now I’ve officially been labeled a bur oak. Which, to be clear, feels less like a compliment and more like something a doctor prescribes ointment for.

I didn’t audition for this role. But here we are. At first, I laughed it off. It felt… aggressively kind. Maybe even a little suspicious. Because when someone starts describing you as “deep-rooted,” “steady,” and “built to last,” it’s hard not to hear, “Hang in there, your peak is coming in a few decades.”

But like most things I can’t immediately dismiss, I sat with it. Here’s what I learned about a bur oak: it grows slowly. Really slow. The kind of slow that doesn’t impress anyone at first. It puts its energy into roots before you ever see much above ground. It’s sturdy, weathered, not particularly flashy, but over time, it becomes the kind of tree people build their sense of direction around.

Which is where I started to get a little uncomfortable… because I could see the resemblance.
Not in some heroic, “gather round, children” kind of way. More in the “this takes longer than I’d like and doesn’t always look like much while it’s happening” kind of way.

If I’m honest, most of what I write isn’t some polished, strategic plan. It’s me thinking out loud, sometimes with better punctuation. Sometimes it connects right away. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it just… sits there until it finds the right moment in someone else’s life.

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe the bur oak thing isn’t about me being anything special.
Maybe it’s just a reminder that not all growth is fast, obvious, or immediately appreciated.
Slow roots instead of quick wins. A little weathered. Occasionally stubborn. Trying to hold both strength and softness without snapping in half.

Which, now that I think about it, is probably why Into the Woods always stuck with me.
Back when I was principal at St. Francis of Assisi, we had already run the full Disney musical circuit into the ground. We needed something different—maybe even a little desperate.

Into the Woods, it was different! Too many characters. Too many storylines. Twists you didn’t see coming. Moments that didn’t resolve cleanly. At times, it felt chaotic. At times, it felt a little too real…which might explain why I loved it. Once again, if I am being honest, that’s not just a musical, that’s my life.  It’s not far off from my writing either.

A lot is going on. A few unexpected turns. Occasionally hard to follow. Somewhere in all of it, something meaningful is trying to take shape.

Here’s the thing about Into the Woods: you’re not meant to stay there. You go into the woods to wrestle with things. To sort through the noise. To face what’s complicated and unclear. To get a little lost. Eventually, you’re supposed to come out.

So yeah—maybe I’ve been in the forest for a bit. Naming the trees. Overanalyzing the trees.
Apparently, becoming one of the trees (a Bur Oak!). But I can see the forest for the trees now.

I think I’m about ready to leave the tree analogies to the park rangers… step out of the woods… and keep moving toward the Kingdom. No promises, I won’t stop and overthink a shrub or two on the way. Like a classic Monty Python film, I like me some good shrubbery!