On a recent hike, I was intrigued by a winding, crooked tree. It got my attention, reached out to me on a subtle energy level, as if it was lightly tapping my shoulder as I walked past. I turned in response, looked up, observed — really observed. It leaned at about a 65 degree angle from the ground, heading east. The bark felt rough, its shape was swirly, and the trunk was perilously holding on to the tremendous weight of branch and body above it, revealing a futile fissure which depicted a timely demise. Yet the tree was still very much alive. Its spirit was shining through its askew, precarious position, and with its aliveness it politely asked me for a conversation.
Behind the tree was an inviting rock, which became my seat and point of view. I came to know this tree more intimately, as I slipped off my shoes and felt the power of her roots just beneath the soil that separated — no, connected us. She was a wanderer, an explorer, a flirtatious friend, unafraid to enter the full-green canopy of her neighbors. Her countenance makes me chuckle. Her disregard for the rules and regulations of agreed-upon tree growth resonates with my Aquarius soul, and I understand her more than any human who has ever graced her path. Unique, hilarious, winding her way through the foliage like she has nothing to hide. Youthful. Unapologetic. Simply inspirational.
Be yourself, she beckons; and her shape becomes a lesson. Of freedom, of humor, of foolishness for choosing a path that weakens her structure, and makes her vulnerable to natural forces. But she knows — she knows, even upon that first emergence from her seed, that she belongs here. Trust in her existence clings to the capillaries of her xylem, and she grows in merciful grace, just as Creator intended.
She dances, twists, becomes whatever feels right in the moment. She follows the light, and she always will; until her form cracks and snaps under pressure. And in her slow collapse she will inevitably bring some close friends down with her, down to the ground where horizontal is the new vertical; and she will laugh, laugh hysterically with joy as she tumbles, because she is strong like Oak. Because her decay will fuel fungi and provide a bridge for countless critters. Because she will split the walking path in two, releasing a triumphant, symbolic exclamation of “Choose your own destiny, damn it!”
She will one day be uprooted, and the average human may see a dead tree; an obstacle, a pity, another victim of the earthly realm. But our definition of living is all wrong. Having a pulse, standing strong, being “alive” is only a fraction of what makes this cosmic dream possible. Living is not a state of being — Living is a way of life.
To live is to be present, to witness with non-judgment, to experience events and miracles as they magically unfold. To live is to see with the unseen senses, to taste, smell, and touch the essence, rather than the object. To live is to feel without thinking, to dissolve the barrier between Self and Other, to let go of everything and everyone except for One. To live is to move toward death with a smile on your face, with tears streaming down your cheeks, with screams and laughter erupting from your fireful belly. It is an understanding of death as a welcome end, and a constant gratitude for endings, for they motivate the enlightened mind to take advantage of every moment, without exception, to live while we are alive.
Our friend The Wonky Tree, The Playful Sage, She Who Gives Zero Fucks About Social Norms is a model living citizen. Not once in her strange journey was she concerned about the end. Her movements were natural — questionable, sure, but without her the forest would certainly not be as interesting. Besides, her unconventional growth is more akin to each of our lives than any straight-laced short-leaf pine could ever hope to be. In this wonkiness is true mindfulness, love, acceptance, presence. So let us thank this unique tree for inspiring the artist in me to express the impact of her beauty. Let us honor her by shutting the hell up every once in a while, and by taking solo hikes. Let us embrace her lessons by appreciating the sinuous meanderings that define our journeys, rather than comparing ourselves to some unattainable, imaginary perfection. Let us be the rebellious tree. Let you be you. Let me be me. Let us live. Let us just … be.
Ethereal Ecology 