There’s a lot to be said for reverence of trees. Respect. Awe. Love.
This occurred to me many years ago. Recently, those thoughts have been powerfully reinforced.
The quiet beauty of a majestic tree is hard to beat. The uniqueness of its size, breadth, height, color inspires poets, writers, nature lovers, anyone who breathes the air on this planet.
Well more than 10 years ago, when social media still appeared to have some value to produce positive things, I considered doing a weekly photo of trees in the community in which we lived. The book, “Humans of New York,” got me thinking. That book is a photoblog and book of street portraits and interviews collected on the streets of New York City.
At that time, I’d recently read the book, affected deeply by the photos and the lives of those individuals interviewed. As I drove my neighborhood during that time period, I thought of the lives of trees, which can last so much longer than a human life, and wondered what those trees saw in their lifetimes.
What storms had they encountered and survived? How many baby birds had been born on their limbs? How far had their nuts, berries or seeds dispersed in the wind?
I thought, too, of the deepness of their roots – how far and deep they drilled themselves into the earth to nourish their branches above the surface, how they could continue sending their tendrils out to store water and nourishment because they had no place to go. Once planted, that’s where they’re going to stay.
As humans we’re not designed for one destination. Our ship should leave the harbor, not remain anchored. A large part of our mission is this exploration of our surroundings, determining meaning, and what’s next, responding to every type of circumstance that comes our way. Adjustment.
Tree roots make me think of human roots. Though trees are anchored, they continue to reach, their branches seeking broader territory, their seed dispersing.
Humans are rooted, but we are born with feet to travel, to explore. Our creation wants us to walk, run, hike, explore, see where we’re headed next.
Trees have to wait. They must adjust and use their skills to bring those things necessary to their survival too them. Hence the expanding branches and deepening roots in the turf.
Reverence for trees made me think of those things. Sitting on our back deck, looking up at towering pines and great oaks, the sunset filtering through, drove thoughts: What do the trees think? Do they reach out to us? Do they get upset when we cut their brethren down? We have no way to know.
The unknowing adds to my reverence for trees, my respect for them. Many grow much older than I ever will, and never complain. They don’t point fingers or assign blame. They remain sturdy. They provide carbon for the next generation.
Trees survive, they grow, give us shade and nourishment, remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. They provide carbon for the next generation.
If they could speak, what would they say to us? What I would say to them is, “You are reverent, marvelous. Don’t change your mission.”
This occurred to me many years ago. Recently, those thoughts have been powerfully reinforced.
The quiet beauty of a majestic tree is hard to beat. The uniqueness of its size, breadth, height, color inspires poets, writers, nature lovers, anyone who breathes the air on this planet.
Well more than 10 years ago, when social media still appeared to have some value to produce positive things, I considered doing a weekly photo of trees in the community in which we lived. The book, “Humans of New York,” got me thinking. That book is a photoblog and book of street portraits and interviews collected on the streets of New York City.
At that time, I’d recently read the book, affected deeply by the photos and the lives of those individuals interviewed. As I drove my neighborhood during that time period, I thought of the lives of trees, which can last so much longer than a human life, and wondered what those trees saw in their lifetimes.
What storms had they encountered and survived? How many baby birds had been born on their limbs? How far had their nuts, berries or seeds dispersed in the wind?
I thought, too, of the deepness of their roots – how far and deep they drilled themselves into the earth to nourish their branches above the surface, how they could continue sending their tendrils out to store water and nourishment because they had no place to go. Once planted, that’s where they’re going to stay.
As humans we’re not designed for one destination. Our ship should leave the harbor, not remain anchored. A large part of our mission is this exploration of our surroundings, determining meaning, and what’s next, responding to every type of circumstance that comes our way. Adjustment.
Tree roots make me think of human roots. Though trees are anchored, they continue to reach, their branches seeking broader territory, their seed dispersing.
Humans are rooted, but we are born with feet to travel, to explore. Our creation wants us to walk, run, hike, explore, see where we’re headed next.
Trees have to wait. They must adjust and use their skills to bring those things necessary to their survival too them. Hence the expanding branches and deepening roots in the turf.
Reverence for trees made me think of those things. Sitting on our back deck, looking up at towering pines and great oaks, the sunset filtering through, drove thoughts: What do the trees think? Do they reach out to us? Do they get upset when we cut their brethren down? We have no way to know.
The unknowing adds to my reverence for trees, my respect for them. Many grow much older than I ever will, and never complain. They don’t point fingers or assign blame. They remain sturdy. They provide carbon for the next generation.
Trees survive, they grow, give us shade and nourishment, remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. They provide carbon for the next generation.
If they could speak, what would they say to us? What I would say to them is, “You are reverent, marvelous. Don’t change your mission.”
