Let the Old You Die So the New You Can Grow
- Jun 16
- 5 min read
I spend a lot of time on my roof. I love planting and tending to my rooftop garden, hosting friends with views of the sky, and on those perfect weather days it becomes my second office.
On June 2nd, 2022 (and omg I am writing this on June 2nd 2026!) I took a picture of my garden and noticed that there was a tree growing in one of my pots. A literal oak tree that I never planted – but clearly a seed had found a home.
I nurtured this tree for years and in 2024 I knew who I was gifting it to. I was gifting it to someone close to me, who was starting a new chapter in their life. I even let them know this tree would be theirs the next chance I had to give it to them. Now just for some reference, keeping things alive on a rooftop in Brooklyn ain’t easy. Hot, humid summer days means you have to water daily. Fridged, windy winters means the roots have to be strong to resist getting frozen. And trust me I have had TONS of perennials up here that never make it a full year. That’s how harsh it is. So through vacations, through busy days and all the things, I have to have a plan for my plant (and tree) babies to be taken care of. It’s a labor of love.
Fast forward to the summer of 2025. The oak tree was vibrant, and the trunk was close to an inch thick. It always brought me joy to see this tree grow it gave me vibes of abundance AND such joy to know it would symbolize a new beginning for someone close to my heart. I had a company I trusted take care of my plants and dog, Siena for two weeks while I was overseas.
When I came back, I quickly came to the roof to check on my garden. When I looked at the tree, I was DEVASTATED. The leaves were completely brown and crunchy. It was dead. The sitter neglected to water it the entire two weeks. I was so upset, not just because the tree died, and not just because my heart loved that tree, but mostly because it was connected to an intention for someone I love deeply. The commitments I make matter to me, and I keep my word. I've said before that I'm sensitive, and this is one of the ways my sensitivity shows up.
I wished and hoped that perhaps the tree wasn’t fully dead, and I could bring it back to life, but there was no such luck. It was painful to look at, and I didn’t know what I would do about the promise I made for it to be a symbolic gift.
Between a busy fall and a tiny seed of hope, I didn’t remove the tree. But a few months later I saw a tiny tree growing! Oh my, what luck – ANOTHER tree growing in that pot. I also recognized that the person I was giving it to, their whole vibe had changed since I mentioned the tree while they were in despair. I realized they had planted seeds of hope in their life and I convinced myself that this was for the best then! The new tree was born during a time of positivity and renewal– a true new beginning.
Now fast forward to this month, when I knew I had to once and for all make plans for this tree. The pot is so big that I thought it would be best to just get rid of the dead tree and then repot the new one into something smaller and more transportable. All of this was a risk to shocking the baby tree, but I had to make this whole thing feasible. After all, I have to take it down three flights of stairs, plus stoop steps. Brownstones; you love them or you love them. Haha
So, I began to loosen the dirt and wiggle things around – trying to find the roots of the small tree without cutting them or shocking them. But I couldn’t find their roots. I keep going deeper and deeper, but guess what? This little tree did not have its own root system! This small tree was an offshoot of the large, dead tree!
Well ain’t that somethin’!!
Now what?? Do I just toss out the whole thing – including that dead part that reminded me of the neglect? Do I repot it and gift it anyway?
So here’s what I did. I decided to cut the tree down so that the new growth was slightly taller than the dead trunk. This mean that the focus now was on the new growth, and the trunk looked like just a supporting structure for the tall sturdy new beginning. And I put less dirt in the pot so that I don’t get a hernia taking it down the stairs in a few weeks.
Energetically it feels so much better now that the dead branches are gone, and the new growth gets the glory. Even Siena agrees (see picture).
You know this whole story has a deeper metaphor to it, right? I mean you had to see this coming so let’s get at it! 🤣
The Lesson Etched In Oak
When you closely look at who you are today, versus who you were years ago – you will realize that parts of you died off. I’m not sure what your story is, but for me I know that many parts have died in just the past 10 years. The part that said yes because I thought I SHOULD. The part that hated my appearance. The part that tells me I’m not doing enough. The part that let go of relationships well past their expiration date. The part that let go of a corporate career in favor of something even better.
And yea, sometimes I sit and wonder well WTF now? All this shedding and dying off – what exactly does that leave me with? Who am I without THESE people? Who am I if I don't react in THESE ways any more?
It leaves me with the new growth. It leaves me with who I always was beneath all of it. Who do I get to be now? I won’t know right away. But here’s what I do know. My roots, YOUR ROOTS are hella strong. Those roots wrapped around and around and around. Thick and grounded they were. They grew from the will to survive. They grew despite the harsh winter seasons, and the hot and heated summer months. They grew through heartache and hard-fought wins. They strengthened with the city sirens blaring and the helicopters hovering overhead. Nothing was wasted, everything made the tree stronger. And when I thought that the tree was baron and gone, something new sprouted from the depths of those roots.
I mean SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEET.
So here’s my message to you:
You will go through seasons, so keep perspective even in the midst of the most difficult ones.
Trust that because you’ve weathered the storms and let go of so much, the new growth is already within you.
Trust that even if you don’t know who you’ll become after you honor who you are not, what you will discover is even more beautiful than you can imagine.
Trust the natural phenomenon that parts of us are not meant to come to the next chapter, or era of who we are becoming.
Trust that what’s no longer a part of you, or in your life was intentional to make way for what is meant for you now.
New beginnings don’t come without grief of the chapter that ended. Celebrate what made you this strong to weather the ending.
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As for the tree – I will deliver the tree as promised, except now it will come with the visible support it has in the former version of itself.
