🌲 The Forest Burned, But It’s Still Alive
What the Forest Taught Me About Growth
A few days ago, Ryan and I hiked through a forest that had burned in a wildfire years ago.
I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel.
At first glance, it was haunting.
The trees stood like dark silhouettes—tall but hollowed out, bark blackened and blistered.
The air felt still. Almost reverent.
Ash clung to the earth like old grief that hadn’t fully settled.
We didn’t talk much.
We just walked.
And then… I noticed something.
Tiny green leaves.
New shoots rising from the roots of trees I thought were gone.
Bright moss climbing the base of blackened trunks.
Sunlight filtering through the gaps, catching fresh growth like a spotlight.
And then—I saw something that stopped me.
A tree, scorched from the ground up, with leaves only on one side.
Half bare. Half alive.
Still reaching. Still growing.
It was poetic. And quietly powerful.
Because even damaged—even incomplete—it was fighting for life.
And I thought:
If this tree—split between death and life—can keep growing,
then so can I.
So can you.
I thought about us.
About the times in life when we feel scorched and stripped bare.
Loss. Trauma. Heartbreak.
Those seasons when everything we thought was solid crumbles,
and we’re left standing in the ashes of what used to be.
And like the forest, we may not even realize we’re regenerating.
Because it isn’t always obvious.
Sometimes it doesn’t look like much—until one day, you catch it: you’ve changed.
You notice new growth, even if you’re still carrying the burn.
But beneath it all, your roots are reaching.
The soil of life—of spirit—is still fertile.
And quietly, steadily, life is still moving.
We are not defined by what we’ve lost.
We are shaped by what we choose to keep growing.
And growth?
It doesn’t follow rules.
It breaks them.
I’ve seen life push through asphalt.
Sprout from cracks in concrete.
Rise from scorched, barren ground.
It doesn’t wait for the perfect moment.
It doesn’t need permission.
It simply asks:
Can you stay long enough to see the leaves come back?
When I looked at that burn area, I didn’t see death.
I saw a love story.
The story of life refusing to be over.
The story of strength wrapped in new growth.
I saw the story of me.
And I saw the story of you.
Not broken.
Resilient.
I want to live like those trees.
Rooted deep.
Reaching wide.
Brave enough to start again.
Because life is unpredictable.
It will surprise you.
Shake you.
Crack you open in ways you didn’t ask for.
But that’s living.
And somehow, it’s still worth it.
🌱 A Moment for You
If part of you feels scorched—burnt out, raw, or a little hollow—
ask yourself:
If the trees—half-burnt and still standing—can grow again,
if they can reach for light with only part of themselves whole,
if they can be patient with their healing…
Then why not me?
Why not you?
Even in the ash, life begins again.
Hold steady.
Keep reaching.
The light will find you.
With love and presence,
Lily Morimoto
Magu Support
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