The wind howled outside shaking the trees with such vigor they bowed down to kiss the ground. Back and forth they went, and I knew they must be getting tired. How much can you really bend before you break? But they kept on going all night, and in the morning I found just the loose bits shaken over the ground; the needles that should have been shed a week ago but had stuck around for no particular reason. It seemed the trees were reminding me, to lessen my grasp, shake loose what isn't serving me, and stand tall into this wild and precious life.