The Tree That Knew It's Shape

Fall asleep with your children and build inner confidence, trust, love and belief. The Tree that Knew It's Shape is a bedtime story to help you and your child reconnect with the person you already are, not who others tell you to be

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:06

The forest was quiet except for the soft hum of crickets and the whisper of wind through the leaves. In the middle of a sun-tappled clearing stood a young tree, not tall yet, not wide yet, but steady. It loved the way the light touched its ark and the way its roots felt cool in the earth. Every evening it listened to the forest and felt something deep inside saying, I know the shape I meant to grow into. One morning a grateful deer wandered by. She tilted her head and said, Little tree, you should grow tall and straight like the pines. That's how you'll see the first sunrise. The tree smiled kindly. That's beautiful, that's bad. But later the deer bent down to nipple grass instead of looking at the sunrise. The tree noticed that and thought she doesn't even do what she says. So the tree decided to trust her own quiet feeling a little more. A squirrel camp up its trunk, twitching its tail. You can grow lots of branches, he chattered. That way I can run and jump and hide my acorns. The tree laughed softly. That sounds fun. But the squirrel soon leapt to another tree, forgiving its acorns entirely. The tree smiled again. He doesn't even follow his own advice. It thought in its roots sank deeper, feeling stronger. At twilight, an owl landed on a branch. Grow thick and twisty, she hooted. That's how you'll look wise. But the tree admired her feathers. You are wise, it said. But then the moon rose, the owl flew off to chase fireflies, not to sit and think. The tree chuckled softly. Even the wise ones changed their minds, and it trusted its own rhythm even more. When autumn came, the tree felt its leaves turning gold. They shimmered in the sun like tiny lanterns. The tree whispered, Thank you for helping me grow. And when the wind called, it let the old leaves fall gently, freely. It knew that new ones would come next year. That's how it learned. Letting go doesn't mean losing yourself. It means making space for new growth. Nearby stood another tree, older, with silver bark and leaves that stayed all winter. The young tree asked, Don't you ever let your leaves go? The older tree smiled. No, my shape is different. I keep mine. The young tree nodded. They were both right. And the forest seemed a hum in the few minutes. Each tree in its own way. Both beautiful, both true. As the stars came out, the wind whispered through the project. You are enough, just as you are. It don't need to copy the dear, the squirrel, or the owl. It don't need to be tall, wide, or twisty. It just needed to be itself, steady, alive, growing in its own shape. You are like that tree. People might have ideas about who you should be, but only you know your shape. You can listen kindly and trust your own heart. You can say this in your heart. I am me. I know me. I trust me. Let that be the lullaby that closes for the night.