In the middle of the forest where the light barely reaches through the filtering limbs of the large overbearing pine and birch is a crooked little tree. It sits in the dark cool shadows of insignficance. Every inch of growth has been a struggle because it rarely captures any strength from the sun, nor any moist sustenance for it's roots. It somehow survives, sight unseen.......unrecognized by the hikers passing by whose eyes are turned up to view the majesty of the dignified presence all around them.
The crooked little tree receives no attention. And yet, it should be the one we pay attention to for it has earned our respect. It has quietly and with little help has fought the cold darkness of winters, and the frightening winds when the bigger trees all around it bend and slap it's branches with ferocious intensity. It has struggled against all odds and elements.
Now the crooked tree, despite it's size and shape that make it appear to be in early growth is tired. It's tired of fighting the odds. It has expended so much energy just to survive that now it sits in isolation, broken and vulnerable to dissolving into mulch. There is a sense of surrendering to the elements.........the same ones it was once challenged to seek leftover nourishment from.
Sighing a deep burdensome moan, thinking that no one is listening, the tree prepares to accept its invisibility.........what does it matter anyways......it was not the crooked tree's destiny to be able to bathe in sunlight or to be showered with a torrent of rain.
One day, a hiker arrives. He stops right in front of the crooked little tree, it's top already bowing down to the ground. The hiker likes it and admires with wonder how this tree has survived for so long surrounded by brutes who steal the light, who lap up all the water.........who steal away possibility. Impulsively, he pulls out his waterbottle from his backpack, unscrews the lid and pours all of it's contents at the base of the crooked little tree where it is soaked up like a dry sponge........ Smiling, the hiker walks away knowing that perhaps for the first time in a very long time, the crooked little tree has quenched it's thirst first.
Before too long, the top of the tree lifts its head upward towards a ray of sunlight which has managed to filter through the pine and birch, leaving a dappling of warmth, and a sense of loveliness the crooked little tree hadn't felt in a very long time.
Today I helped the crooked little tree and it left me with a radiating feeling of satisfaction that perhaps I played a bit of a role correcting a wrong.
16 comments:
i don't know why but this reminds me of a book i read ages ago by Ronald Rolheiser called 'Forgotten Among the Lilies'
in that famous poem , 'Dark Night of the Soul' St John of the Cross shows that our spiritual journey culminates in a freedom that allows us to live beyond the imprisonment of our own obsessions. At the end of the poem he expresses this beautifully with the words:
'I abandoned and forgot myself...
Leaving my cares
Forgotten among the lilies.'
not actually sure if that makes any sense but hey, thought i'd share it
paul......i makes perfect sense to me though that doesn't mean much given how my brain is wired. thank you....
the title of the book is familiar and will see about getting my hands on it......
and I love the poem.....the ending does fit my thoughts beautifully. I had a conversation last night with a friend and he told me a story about the spirit found in the trees.......it was such a lovely thought. Right after that, when I was about to turn off the lights and head to bed, I read part of a poem Father O'Donahue had included in his book , Spiritual Echoes.....
found in a chapter where he described the spiritual essence of trees (too serendipitous to ignore!)....
"should it not act so,
to foster its own loss, its branches
will be stunted,
its upward effort hunched...."
He goes on to write that the tree rises from the dark.......
thank you paul.
How lovely your words. They have touched me so much today.
oh, my, this was just lovely. the respectful and thoughtful interaction between man that cares and nature. the Earth is our natural Mother and we must always nourish it and take care of it. how wonderful that you did that and how beautifully you translated that experience into words.
Brilliant post Dana. Merton would be proud!
yoli....thankyou...and welcome.
rebecca....it was an interesting process for me as to how i made it to a place where i could write the experience through the eyes and life in nature. I had to write the full real story out before it was out of my system, knowing i couldn't write what i was compelled to because of confidentiality.....then the idea of writing the essence of the story came from a piece that i had read and a conversation i had with a good friend about his own writing.....and the theme of trees were found in both places.....it flowed out of me like a tap from there...
i love the process of reflection. it always stirs the opportunity to see something thru a different lens.
having read some of your work, i can see that your reflections and processes to getting to a place where you can be creative are ever stirring. you write beautifully.
Monk....wow, thank you....Merton? HOLY!....I would love to see the words captured visually as well....it originally formed as a picture in my head....know anyone who could draw or paint it? :)
WOW!
Lately, I feel like that little tree....This spoke to me on such a profound level. I need someone to pour that life giving water over me.
The Metaphors coulde just make you cry!
I tell you. Getting old and infirm SUCKS, Big Time!
urbanscratchings.blogspot.com/2008/06/tree-man.html
Naomi....
I read a poem tonight that struck me....by Yeats....about courage and the need to have a sense of kinship in order to face the darker shades of our lives...
"come away human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a fairy hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."
It does suck to feel like the crooked little tree.....the forlorn sense of isolation leaves us thirsty for nurturing water. Know that you have a fairy hand in hand.....and a guardian angel watching over you.....
dana.
MONK! YOUR drawing is amazing....and fits so profoundly with the picture in my head. I love it.....and love the fact that we can create through this medium far far away from one another. Thank you.!
ps. I have somehow lost your email address and wanted to connect with you.....can you send me an email?
Vraiment bon!!! TRES BON!!!!
Traffic heading your way!!!
I love this!! How beautiful!!!!
It's nice to be able to give nourishment when needed. There are so many crooked little trees that it can be daunting when you want to water them all and you see that your water bottle is already half empty...
merci Charles........as i said today, we know who needs attention....the crooked little trees who can't speak for themselves and havent the energy or the ability to even ask for help. ;)
Sunny.......Maybe it's good to know that our water supply around here is endless....we can always go down to the river bank to fill up.
And i think it's important to remember that we can only do our best one little tree at a time.
I'm one of Charles' traffic. Very nice story.
It reminds me of the song "The Trees" by Rush actually except that this little tree seems resigned to his fate where the small trees in the song stand up and demand rights.
Thanks for sharing it.
Hi Dana You make poetry from a crooked little tree. Would be lovely for a story book
I've found a nice story about a crooked tree yesterday What a coincedence It goes like this
Once upon a time there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. And they grew next to each other. And every day the straight tree would look at the crooked tree and would say, "You're crooked. You've always been crooked and you'll continue to be crooked. But look at me! said the straight tree. He said "I am tall and I'm straight" And than one day the humberjacks came into the forest and looked around, and the manager in charge said."Cut all the straight trees." And that crooked tree is still there to this day, growing strong and growing strange.
Tom Waits in Wristcutters: A love story
Tim....glad you came by from Charles' blog.....don't know that Rush song, though it's been a while since i listened to them, though they were one of the very first bands i saw in concert...and will NEVER reveal how long ago that was. :)
Many crooked trees get some of their kinks from fighting and struggling to be heard. The system most definately adds to the crookedness. I think everybody gets stunted and loses steam if not acknowledged and helped to believe they matter and that they belong in this place we call society.
Marja....Thank you. Great story and message. The other children's story about a tree which I love is The Giving Tree....
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