In the mirror, my body flows in and out of itself, big and small, tall and short, my hips narrow and widen, as my brain sorts through who I am supposed to be. I want to be grounded, connect to the earth, bring my feet into the grass and latch softly, but firmly. But when I think of myself in nature it is about the knobby fingers and the slender body of an aspen tree, drifting up and up into the clouds or the ink of night.