Trees are resilient. People chop at them, build fences
through them, and torture them in various ways; still, they drop their seeds
and sprout up again. Every year, on the East Coast, I’m reminded again of how
much trees give us; when the hills are shimmering with vibrant color, I’m reminded that
trees offer shelter, shade, and beauty every day.
We’re like trees, as every yogi knows. We can stand straight
and tall, our roots planted deeply into the earth even when the wind blows,
even when insults are hurled our way, even when we face illness, or the death
of a loved one, or any number of tragedies. Like trees, we just keep coming
back, asking for more. You can knock us down, but we don’t give up easily. Like
the tree, we possess the will to live, the will to grow, and the will to spread
our little acorns around.
Long ago, I wrote a story about some trees that the city
chopped down in front of my childhood home. My dad, who was an avid tree-lover,
retaliated by planting butternut trees where the maples once had stood. Today,
those butternut trees tower into the sky, and their butternuts sprinkle the
street, no doubt still a headache for the man who runs the street sweeper (who
probably is clueless about my deceased father’s long-ago disagreement
with the local government). I’ll never forget the pride in my father’s voice
when he told me about his idea; and I’ll never forget the pride I felt, knowing
that my father cared enough about trees to conjure up such a scheme.
As winter grows near and the trees shed their leaves in my
neighborhood, I look forward to the still, frozen nights when I’ll gaze out my
window and see their bare branches arching against the sky. There is an oak
tree not far from my house that has been there for more than l00 years. My neighbor
has had it lovingly trimmed and cared for over the years (ironically, her
father is a tree man too—the kind who actually climbs high up in trees to clip
off dead branches).
Trees serve as excellent examples. They stand tall every day and hardly ever say “I can’t” or “I won’t” (except perhaps in a terrible storm, when
they might be toppled). They may bend and sway, but rarely do they give up of
their own accord. They remind us to open our hearts and spread our arms to embrace
the world. They remind us to be brave—and not to slump.
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