Rings of Time
Last week, I had the privilege of sitting down with Byddi Lee – Author, Playwright, and Screenwriter on my podcast - after reading her profoundly moving book Barren. It tells the story of a grieving woman who connects with the spirit of her miscarried child, unveiling the story of an ancient Irish woman navigating a climate catastrophe. As I turned the pages of Byddi’s story, I found myself deeply touched, not only by her beautiful writing but also by the tenderness with which she brought the unseen into the light.
Her story stirred something within me. It opened a quiet space in my heart where I reflected on my own journey through baby loss and miscarriage - two precious souls who came briefly into my life and who now live on in Spirit. I feel their presence with me every day. Though not here in the physical world, they are part of my story - woven into the fabric of my past and my present, guiding me in gentle ways I cannot always explain but deeply feel. They remind me daily of the love that never leaves and the connections that transcend form.
As Byddi and I spoke, our conversation flowed into the wisdom of trees and the stories they hold in their rings. We explored how the natural world mirrors our inner landscapes -how each tree ring, like each experience, tells a chapter of growth, struggle, resilience, and renewal.
When I reflect on the inner rings of a tree, I see the echoes of my own life. Each ring, a year lived. Each ring, a layer of who I’ve become. There are wide rings, representing times of flourishing, times when I stood rooted in purpose, sharing my heart’s work as a wellness coach, Reiki master, and clinical hypnotherapist. These were the seasons when healing felt expansive, and I witnessed both myself and others blossom.
And there are the narrower rings - those tender, more difficult years shaped by grief, uncertainty, and personal healing. The times when I had to pause, listen deeply, and gather strength from within. Losing those babies, moving through that silent grief, was part of those rings. Yet, even in sorrow, growth found a way. Like the tree that keeps reaching for light despite harsh seasons, I, too, found resilience I didn’t know I possessed. These sacred, quiet rings became the soil of my deepest empathy and the foundation of the support I now offer others on their healing paths.
The passage of time becomes visible in the rings of a tree, and in the same way, I see how the unfolding of my life has shaped me. Healing is not linear, it spirals, circles, and returns, just like those rings. And in each return, I gain new understanding, not only of myself but of the strength that comes from loving deeply, even when that love is carried in Spirit rather than in arms.
As I continue to reflect, I honour the stories of those I’ve worked with and walked beside. Their journeys, their trust, and their healing are woven into my own rings, just as mine are woven into theirs. We are all part of a greater forest, each tree individual, yet deeply interconnected. Our roots meet beneath the surface, where compassion and shared experience grow.
The resilience of the tree through storm and drought reminds me of the strength within all of us. Every challenge, every joy, every soul we’ve loved and lost adds to the layers of who we are. And just as the tree stands tall, its story etched in every ring, I, too, stand with my story - proud, grounded, and ever-growing.
In the end, I hope that my journey, my words, and the love I carry will encourage others to honour their own rings, to recognise the beauty in their growth, the sacredness of their pain, and the unbreakable bonds that endure beyond time. Like the tree, may we all leave behind a legacy of resilience, wisdom, and love.
You can watch my beautiful conversation with Byddi HERE on YouTube
Sharon Fitzmaurice
Author, Wellness Coach & Podcast Host
