SOMETIMES LOOKING AT A TREE
SOMETIMES LOOKING AT A TREE… I know. I get it. These are awful times. Sometimes you feel as though the ground has nearly disappeared beneath your feet. As though you can no longer remember what ‘normal’ was. As though you might be the only person you personally know who’s still sane, who still cares about things we once thought we all cared about together. As though you might not be able to stand one more piece of bad news, but it keeps coming anyway. You feel as though you vacillate between two main emotions—rage and despair.
I know because I feel exactly the same way, on a nearly daily basis. And no, I don’t think either you or I are crazy for feeling that way. So sometimes, to get re-oriented, I just go for a walk. In the woods if possible. And find myself awash in beauty, and in old feelings of belonging—to a good and living world that still nurtures and embraces. And I find that sometimes, just looking at a tree–standing beneath it in awe and wonder–does something to me.
I am reminded that trees grow and derive sustenance from where they are rooted. From those deep, hidden places no one sees. That they grow through all kinds of challenges and disasters—storms, floods, winds, droughts, disease—and that life is never truly easy. And that they grow endlessly, ceaselessly, tenaciously, toward the light. That’s what they do. That’s how they are made. And to see a tree that has done that—is doing it—as though for the first time—to truly see that tree, or a whole forest of them, is to feel a sense of kinship. An infusion of courage. A transference of spirit. A rekindling of purpose and a nudge toward determination.
At least, that’s how it sometimes feels to me. Do the trees somehow know they are doing this? Is it part of their purpose in the mysterious web of life? Or is it just me? I have my theories, but I don’t really know.
And it doesn’t really matter.
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