One tree that has particularly caught my attention is the Mukwa tree – Pterocarpus angolensis. It is a tree with a story that feels particularly suited to reflection.

A tree of the Zambian landscape

Mukwa is native across a broad area of southern and central Africa and is found in Zambia’s miombo and other deciduous woodlands. It is a deciduous tree, developing a rounded or spreading crown, with mature bark that becomes rough, fissured and grey brown. When the bark is cut, it can release a striking reddish sap. Its flowers range from golden-yellow to orange and may appear on new shoots before the leaves.

There is something rather beautiful about that image flowers emerging while the tree is still apparently bare. It reminds me that growth isn’t always immediately visible and that sometimes change has already begun before we can see its evidence.

The marks we carry

I am always drawn to tree bark. Up close, a tree is rarely smooth or perfect. There are cracks, scars, different colours and textures; evidence of weather and age, damage and repair. Yet we don’t look at an old tree and think that those marks somehow diminish it.

Quite the opposite. Often, it is precisely those textures that make us want to reach out and touch it. Perhaps there is something here for us too.

Our lives leave marks. Some come through experiences we have chosen and others through things we would never have chosen. There are seasons of growth and periods when very little seems to move at all. The whole story becomes part of us.

And then I found these…

At first glance, they almost look as though they belong to another plant entirely.

The fruit of the Mukwa is a roughly circular pod, surrounded by a thin, stiff wing. At its centre is the seed-bearing area, densely covered with long bristles. The pod generally contains one seed, sometimes two.  Looking closely at it, I was struck by the contrasts.

The delicate papery wing. The wild, protective-looking bristles and somewhere within all that complexity the seed.

It made me think about the things we carry within ourselves that aren’t always immediately visible. Ideas, Memories, Strengths, Relationships, Values.

Hopes that may have been put aside and possibilities that haven’t yet had the conditions they need to grow. A seed does not need to know exactly what the finished tree will look like. It simply carries the possibility.

Looking at our own tree

This is one of the reasons I continue to find the metaphor of the Tree of Life so powerful.

When life feels difficult or uncertain, our attention can understandably become focused on what is happening right now. Sometimes that particular part of our story can become so large that it is difficult to see anything beyond it.

The Tree of Life invites us to widen the view. Rather than beginning with problems, we begin to explore the landscape of a person’s life.

• The roots can connect us with where we have come from places, people, culture, memories and experiences that have shaped us.
• The ground can represent what sustains us in our lives today.
• The trunk can hold skills, qualities, values and strengths.
• The branches can reach towards hopes, dreams and possibilities.
• The leavesmay represent important people, past or present, who have contributed something to our lives.

And the fruits and seeds can become gifts we have received, gifts we offer others, or things we would like to carry forward and nurture.

There can also be storms. Because a Tree of Life isn’t about pretending that difficult things haven’t happened. It allows us to acknowledge the storms a tree has weathered while making sure that the storm does not become the whole story of the tree.

The seeds we carry

I keep returning to that strange and beautiful Mukwa pod. From the outside, it is dry, rough and bristling, yet held within it is something quite different: the possibility of another tree. Perhaps that’s a useful reminder for all of us we don’t always know what the next season will bring. We don’t necessarily need to have everything worked out. Sometimes it is enough to notice what we are already carrying and to create the conditions in which something new might begin to grow.

1:1 Tree of Life Sessions

If you would like to explore your own Tree of Life, I currently offer individual online sessions through Green Tree Arts Studio.

The sessions combine creative exploration, conversation and reflection and are individually paced around you. No previous art experience is needed. Through drawing, colour, imagery, words and conversation, we gradually build the tree and become curious about what appears your foundations, strengths, significant relationships, experiences, values and the things you may want to nurture next.

For someone moving through change, transition, bereavement, uncertainty or a new chapter in life, this can offer a different way of looking at where you are.

If, you would like to find out more, please contact me for an informal conversation.  We also offer Group Opportunities for Organisations.

contact@greentreeartsstudio.co.uk

https://www.greentreeartsstudio.co.uk/tree-of-life-programme/What’s App +447860867118

What happens when we give ourselves permission to slow down, step away from everyday demands and spend a little time following imagination?

This summer, a small group of people from across the Highlands came together online for Layers of Dreams, a seven-week creative wellbeing programme developed by Green Tree Arts Studio as part of the Scottish Mental Health Arts Festival Highland 2026, whose theme this year is Reflections.

Over seven weeks, we created from our own homes surrounded by paints, pencils, scraps of paper, thread, fabric, found objects and things gathered from nature. There was no expectation to be an artist. There was no particular destination we needed to reach.

Instead, the invitation was simply to become curious.

Entering the dream space, we began at a doorway.Rather than thinking of dreams as something that needed to be clearly remembered, understood or interpreted, we approached them much more broadly as fragments, colours, sensations, memories, symbols, stories, landscapes and images.

From there, each week took us a little further. We explored Fragments & Traces, noticing what remains with us. We travelled through Dream Landscapes, giving shape and colour to imagined and remembered places.

We encountered Figures, Animals & Presences before arriving at Thresholds & Transitions – doors, bridges, pathways, crossings and experiences of change.

Later we explored Roots, Belonging & Collective Dreaming, before our final session brought us to Gathering the Threads.

The journey was never intended to be linear. An image begun one week might return several weeks later. A scrap of paper, feather, colour or piece of thread might suddenly suggest another direction, and sometimes an artwork simply remained unfinished. That was okay too.

Making without needing to get it “right”

One of the loveliest things to witness was the growing freedom to experiment.

Painting and drawing sat alongside collage, cardboard, stitching, wool, textiles and natural or found materials. Some participants returned to materials they knew well; others tried something completely different.

Sometimes there were accidents. Sometimes there was laughter. Sometimes something appeared on the page that had not been planned at all. Gradually, there seemed to be less concern about making the “right” kind of artwork and more willingness to ask:

What happens if I try this?

One participant described the experience as having:

“Unblocked the stagnation. Encouraged me to try more!”

Another reflected:

“My creative thinking has been refreshed. I feel less alone. I am proud of the work I have done.”

Creativity, reflection and connection

Although the artwork provides a beautiful visible record of the seven weeks, Layers of Dreams was about much more than the images that were produced.

Through the making, conversations naturally touched upon experiences of belonging and connection, changing circumstances, memory, loss, physical and emotional wellbeing, relationships, identity, place and nature.

There was never an expectation that anyone should disclose personal experiences.

Choice was an important part of the programme. Participants could decide whether they wanted to share an artwork or reflection, work quietly, take a break or simply listen.

Although Layers of Dreams was a creative wellbeing programme rather than art therapy, my background as an Art Psychotherapist informs the way I facilitate these spaces paying attention to emotional safety, pacing, choice and the capacity of images and materials to sometimes hold things that are difficult to put immediately into words.

Artwork was witnessed rather than interpreted and perhaps because of that, very different experiences could sit comfortably alongside one another.

Creating together – from our own homes

There is sometimes an assumption that an online creative group cannot offer the same sense of connection as sharing a physical room, our experience was rather different.

Each week followed a gentle, familiar rhythm: arriving and checking in, grounding, a small creative warm-up, longer making time, optional sharing and a closing reflection. Gradually, individual creative spaces became connected.

One person’s discovery might spark an idea for somebody else. Materials were shared on screen. Artwork was held up to cameras. Conversations continued while hands were busy making.

The creative process also began to extend beyond the sessions. Pieces continued to develop during the week and participants described noticing materials, images and possibilities differently.

One person reflected that the programme had:

“Reminded me to make the time and space for it as it helps my overall health.”

Another simply said:

“Made me more passionate about art.”

What did participants tell us?

Four participants completed our final evaluation and all four described their experience of Layers of Dreams as very positive.

All four reported that taking part had offered them time and space for themselves, greater confidence in their creativity, permission to experiment and try new things, a way to slow down and feel more present, connection with other people, new ways of reflecting on their experiences, greater connection with nature and motivation to be creative.

They also reported feeling calmer and more relaxed, less isolated or alone, and better able to recognise and value their own creativity.

These are the experiences of a small group and are not intended as claims of clinical or universal change. But they do tell us something important about what the participants themselves valued.

Perhaps even more revealing was what people wanted to carry forward.

One participant hoped for:

“Meeting up as a group, online to continue making art in each other’s company.”

Another wanted to continue:

“Expressing myself through art and just having fun. Embracing the inner child.”

Gathering the threads

For our final week, threads, wool, stitching, feathers, images and unfinished pieces became part of our making. But Gathering the Threads also became a metaphor. What did we want to keep from the previous seven weeks? What might we leave behind?And which threads were still unfinished? One phrase emerged during that final session that has stayed with me: “It’s okay to drop a stitch.” There was something beautifully simple in that.

Creativity doesn’t need to be perfect. Our journeys don’t need to be linear. We don’t need to gather every thread. When we came to the end and participants were invited to find a word for something of their experience, one response was: “Revelation.”

From our screens to an exhibition and the story hasn’t quite finished. Selected work from Layers of Dreams is now moving from the intimate spaces in which it was created into a public setting as part of the Scottish Mental Health Arts Festival Highland 2026 – Reflections.

Layers of Dreams Exhibition
5–28 October 2026
Eden Court, Inverness

There is something rather special about that journey. Artwork created around kitchen tables, in spare rooms and personal creative corners was first witnessed within our small online group. Now some of those pieces will be encountered by people who know nothing about the conversations or moments from which they emerged.

The works are not simply finished pictures. They are traces of a journey of experimenting, noticing, questioning, connecting, playing and discovering, and perhaps that is where I would like to leave Layers of Dreams.

Not with an answer, but with the question that accompanied us as we finished:

“What thread might you choose to carry forward?”

*A big thank you to all those participants who generously shared their work and their experiences, we are very humbled. *