Today's track: half•alive — still feel.
Yesterday, I was sitting at my fire pit, looking at my maple tree.
A branch fell.
I was on a call with my sister when it happened — she heard it through the phone. It came down from the maple — and landed upright. Standing. Still standing now.
I made a short about it. Watch it here.
I got curious, so I asked Claude what the odds were. Here's what came back:
For a branch to land upright, the base has to strike the ground at the exact right angle while the weight distribution is balanced enough to hold. The odds are somewhere between getting struck by lightning and winning the lottery on the same day. Most people live their whole lives and never see it.
Then the folk tradition angle:
Across a lot of traditions and superstition, something falling and landing upright — defying gravity's natural resolution — is read as a signal to pay attention. Not necessarily to the branch itself, but to the moment. The idea being: something is trying to get your focus right now.
I wrote a song about it too. You can hear it here.
After reading that, I made sure I went back outside. To sit in the sun. To be present.
I was reading Monte Cristo when I looked up and there were two red hawks circling directly above me — riding the waves of the wind. I took a picture and checked with Claude to make sure they weren't turkey vultures (they weren't). Red hawks. Just turning slow circles overhead like they had nowhere to be.
I kept reading.
During that reading, I came across the word equanimity. I wanted more context, so I asked Claude for the definition.
Equanimity is a state of mental calm and composure — the ability to remain balanced and unshaken in the face of both good fortune and hardship. It's about maintaining an even temperament regardless of external circumstances, responding to life's ups and downs with steady presence rather than getting swept up in reactivity or emotion.
I think it's a fitting word to learn right now. For me specifically.
"Dantès looked with equanimity at his past life, with terror at what was to come, and chose the mid-point that appeared to offer a refuge."
Dantès is at rock bottom. And what saves him isn't hope — it's equilibrium. He doesn't pretend the fear isn't there. He just refuses to let it be the whole story. He finds the middle. He holds it.
That's the thing about equanimity. It's not the absence of hard feelings. It's the ability to stay steady while you're having them.
I'm working on that.
Warmly,
Rob Bergeron
Owner–Realtor at Award-Winning Winner Realty
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PS: The Branch is Still Standing!