There was one of these stark white trees in the front yard of my childhood home. As far as metaphors go, this tree—one of the first to bud in spring—is an easy connection to the best moments of therapy. I think of the strength of the trunk, the deep roots, and those tiny buds so persistent in the face of cold. I think of renewal, growth, and new life.

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As a child, I would sneak to the tree and peel away its bark. It would spiral off, and I would be enthralled (I would later, always, be chastised for damaging the tree). I would squirrel these precious, rebellious papers away and write on them. I would write stories of faraway places and faraway people—places I could go and people I could become.

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Many believe that birch trees hold protective properties, magical and spiritual energies. When I was a child, I knew all trees to be protective, magical, and spiritual beings. I spent as much time as possible in their limbs, observing from above, pushing my young muscles to climb higher, swinging, and delighting in the movement of the wind and the solidity of the roots.

 

The name for Paper Birch Counselling is born from all of this: from a muscle and sinew that climb us higher, to magic and spirit that give us hope. From stories of where we are and could go, to the newness and potential in every breath. It is from these branches that we can notice our own courage and fear, solidity and flexibility; it is from here that we can journey home to ourselves.