When the harsh winter finally ends, and life returns to the forest, some trees do not come back to life. Their hollow, twisted frames tower over the new growth of spring, as stark reminders of the cold dark months. This ghostly figure is the spirit of the trees that silently withered in the icy grip of winter. She is the ghost of the things we left behind to make way for new growth, the old versions of ourselves we can no longer be. She remains as a memory that resurfaces in quiet moments, only to fade with the rising sun.
Sometimes, we cling so tightly to what’s familiar, to the things that have worked for us in the past, that we don’t notice we’re in the wrong place. If we focus solely on the ghosts of what we once had, we can completely miss new opportunities coming our way. What if we made a decision to let go? What if we decided to let all the competing voices fade into the background and trust in our own ability to find the right path? What if we listened to our own inner voice? This painting tells a story about trees, or ghosts, or maybe it’s about the human experience of facing change?