sycamore tree 🪷 + New Moon 🌑 Intention

🪷 message of letting go, letting in & intentions for Mar 29, 2025 New Moon

During a cross country drive in August 2023, I developed a fascination with shockingly white trees that I admired from the passenger seat in my friend’s Subaru. I managed to snap some clear(ish) pictures with my phone, then posted them on social media asking for help with identification.

Mysterious tree. Photo taken from moving car (thus, blurry). August 2023.

Is the tree dead? The trees in the above photo had lost their leaves, so I wondered if this type of tree also shed its bark when it died and then the sun bleached the inner wood. Was it bleached by UV or was the bark naturally white, similar to birch or aspen?

Asking social media returned some guesses, yet the most likely answer, sycamore, was puzzling since sycamore wasn’t native to the area I was seeing the trees.

I started to wonder if the tree lost its bark when it died and then the sun bleached the wood? August 2023.

I caught a picture of the “bleached tree” beside a tree with leaves and darker bark (above). The visual contrast was satisfying. I felt a connection to these mysterious bleached trees.

Back at home, I noticed the bleached trees growing along rivers and many still had their leaves, which blew my theory that the trees reached the shocking white color upon death. In addition, I learned sycamore is native to my area. How had I not noticed them earlier?

Stunning sycamore tree, March 2025. Photo by Lori Heinsman.

Last Friday, I parked under a glorious sycamore and got up close and personal. I placed my hands on her smooth bark and felt her strength, joyfulness, and contentment.

Wait, what?

I did an internal doublecheck. Was I sensing my own joy to be admiring sycamore one-on-one after a year of curiosity? My appreciation was real, yet the JOY I felt was absolutely hers.

Hello Sycamore, marvelous tree. I feel your strength and contentment. I feel your joy.

I looked up at the tree’s winter canopy and admired the gorgeous, deep blue of the sky separating the interwoven branches and stems.

I looked down at the base of her trunk where I could see evidence of peeling bark and notice her gorgeous roots anchored into the earth.

Base of sycamore tree showing peeling bark, March 2025. Photo by Lori Heinsman.

I asked, Why are you content and joyful?

Her answer was immediate.

You see my bark peels?

I do.

It’s natural for me to slough off what no longer serves me. The rough bark peels away to reveal the new, happy skin below.

The new skin is why you are joyful and content?

I am a tree who lets go. I let go and I reach for the sky. I let go and I extend my roots.

I let go and I let in.

I communicate with others who reach out to me in curiosity and gratitude.

I swear I felt her giving me a knowing smile. I looked at Sycamore and REALLY saw her.

You were planted on Main Street as landscaping, growing between a concrete sidewalk and a curb.

I am tree who lets go.

You’re authentically YOU regardless of surroundings. You’re not focused on the concrete. You let go and you be you.

Yes, and letting go and being me is why I am joyful and feel content.

Like snake who sheds her skin, this fascinating tree sheds her bark. I feel blessed by witnessing her authenticity. I feel her contentment and joy. She is a tree who lets go.

It is time to let go to make room for who I am becoming. - Lori

Today, Sycamore’s message of letting go is precisely what I need. I see my past concrete (corporate) container clearly. I’ve been holding on too tightly to the limits of the container and the professional identity of my past.

The concrete container no longer limits my growth. It is time to let go of my old professional identity to make room for who I am becoming.

I need to shed. I am ready to shed. I want to shed.

Using the renewal energy of the new moon, I take steps to shed, grow without limits, and enjoy the freedom of being authentically and joyfully me.