“Trust your wings, not the branch.”
My spiritual mothers taught me that proverb when I was young. At the time, it felt wise. Now, it feels necessary. Because in 2025, many people are confronting a truth we’ve long avoided: the branches we relied on are not as steady as we once believed.
When my spiritual mothers talked about branches, they meant the external structures we’ve been taught to trust—jobs, titles, salaries, positions, policies, corporate systems, status, even the professional connections we’ve built over time. These were the things – the branches – we were encouraged to lean on and hold tightly, because throughout our lives we were conditioned to believe they would provide stability, security, protection, identity, and meaning. And because those beliefs run deep, most of us don’t question them until the ground beneath us begins to shift and shake.
And for many, that shift and shaking is already underway.
As a minister, I witness the toll of these changes; I see the spiritual fatigue up close. On Sundays, I see professionals at the altar who are mentally, emotionally, and spiritually depleted. Their exhaustion isn’t just from completing tasks, but from trying to survive environments that demand constant proving of their worth, managing competing expectations, and sometimes compromising their values just to stay afloat. I witness the toll on their souls, even as they try to hide the sorrow in their eyes and minimize the strain in their bodies. I also sense the tension of feeling grateful to have a job while being overwhelmed by the weight of doing it. It is a heavy, complicated emotional terrain to navigate.
In those vulnerable moments, I am reminded of something my spiritual mothers understood long ago: the branches we were conditioned to trust were never meant to hold us, keep us safe, or sustain us. What actually carries us are our wings.
Our wings are internal. They are the strengths, gifts, abilities, and talents we were born with and the capacities we’ve cultivated along the way. They live in our histories, our personal stories, and the legacies we carry. They show up as resilience, intuition, ancestral wisdom, creativity, curiosity, emotional intelligence, discernment, adaptability, courage, and faith. They act as an inner compass that helps us shed shame when we make mistakes, remember that disruption is not denial, walk through fear while still holding on to faith, and maintain our dignity even when we are attacked. These wings are already within us, often unnamed and uncelebrated, yet they are the very qualities that keep us moving, becoming, building, and blooming—especially when external branches break.
So as this year comes to a close, I invite you to pause and take inventory of your wings. Identify them. Name what you carry and what has carried you, trusting that what sustained you yesterday will guide you now and support you tomorrow.
Remember—you are not your job. You are not your title, your environment, or your position in an organizational chart. You are not confined by systems, structures, stereotypes, policies, or other people’s perceptions. These are branches, and they will eventually bend and break.
You have WINGS. You are lifted, guided, and fortified by them. Your wings are steady, sacred, swift, and strong. And no matter what shifts around you or shakes beneath you, they can carry you toward new opportunities, soul-nourishing places, and dignity-affirming communities.
A Closing Benediction
May you trust the wisdom within you more than the structures around you.
May you remember that your value is never dependent on a title, a system, or someone else’s approval.
May you reclaim the strength, creativity, and discernment that carried you yesterday, trusting they will guide you tomorrow.
May you rise with courage when the ground beneath you feels uncertain and risky.
May you fly toward people, places, and possibilities that honor who you are and who you are becoming.
And may you always remember that you were created with wings.
Blessings!
