I wish I could because the moment I read it, I fell in love with it and tried my hardest to ingrain every wise and insightful and botanical word into my brain and my heart. But alas, below you'll find the genius of another writer. I hope her words speak to you as much as they spoke to me. I never realized how smart trees are....
"Lessons I have Learnt from Trees"
1. Dig Deep. There's no environment that's totally without sustenance if you could take root there at all. Don't be afraid to stretch for what you need to survive.
2. Quick growth is showy and exciting, yes, but it's also brittle. It can't stand up to bugs, frost, or a good hard storm, and if you've let yourself explode into a spread that's really too big for you to sustain, you'll lose more than the spares when the storm rolls over your head -- it just might crack you in half. And nobody will even be able to use the wood afterward.
3. When the time comes to shed the extra stuff, just let it go. Clinging to dead leaves all through the winter doesn't make them alive again in the spring. Trust that you'll have the resources and strength to make new ones; you always have done before.
4. Make your space inviting, and all kinds of people will come to be in it. They might not be so reliable as friends are, but they'll bring their stories and their energy, and share a bit before they go. Hospitality is never really wasted, and the shelter you offer could save lives, faith, and souls, if you're willing to reach out a bit.
5. Never give up on where you came from, even if you didn't like it; the soil might have been rocky, sour and full of garbage, but the anchorage of what you have survived will keep you stable and strong in the face of the hardest blow. And the truth is, nobody but you can even percieve the knots your roots have had to come up into anyway. All that work has gone on under the surface and so if some of it was desperate, and other is sloppy, and other is overwrought and excessive, nobody but you really has to know about it. Value the experience for the strength and wisdom it's given you, and just leave the inelegant rest of it buried.
6. With patience and persistence, you can crack mountains. Don't underestimate yourself, either your productive potential, or your destructive potential.
7. Those who will not stand tall wind up breaking at the spots where they bent. Flexing with the wind is important, sure, but you've got to have a solid core at the heart of things -- a tree with no trunk is just grass, after all. If you let other folks get you all twisted around on yourself where it matters, you'll always have a spot where you never quite dare to trust yourself. It's better to stand straight if you can manage it, even if you have to back up and start again.
8. Don't waste energy envying other people's talents; you're good at what you're good at, everything else you really need, you can learn. If there's an oak that's stronger, or a willow that's more flexible, or a monkey puzzle that's more indie, or an apple that's more fruitful, well it's a better investment of your energy to put your effort into maximizing the places where YOUR virtue lies, rather than castigating yourself for not being all things better than everyone.
9. It's easier to weather the unexpected annoyances of life if you learn to grow a thick skin. Some bugs will always tunnel through, but generally it's best if you can let the world just roll off your bark and sink into the soil.
10. Leave your place better than it was when you came there. You can, through your attitude, your determination, and the sheer fact of your being there, turn barren soil into fertile treasure over time. You can inhale poisons, and exhale life, drink toxins and still bear wholesome fruit, and all it takes is the sort of stuff you do any day, wherever you are. A little effort, and a little faith can make your corner of the world into the very definition of Heaven by the time you leave it behind.
11. Don't fear tragedy; either the fire will be fierce and fast and clear out the underbrush, leaving you space to breathe afterward, or it will be slow and deadly, and you will go down in it. Fear doesn't change it either way; it doesn't give you any edge, or make the fire's character change. Acknowledge the risk of that which you cannot master, and then just go on with the business of growing as many rings inside your trunk as you can manage.
12. When the wind gives you music, dance.
From the Maple, I have learnt generousity -- It is no hardship to share my sweetness with others when I am overflowing with it. I still have all I need to grow my leaves, and set a million keys spinning into the wind before autumn turns my leaves to fire. I can afford to give, even when years are lean.
From the Oak, Hazel, Pecan, and other suchlike I have learnt merriment -- much as folks may poke fun and tease, the truth of the matter is, they never can resist the Nuts. They may praise you for your majesty and grandeur, but they're really there for the nuts.
And also from the Oak, I have learnt forbearance -- if I make a decision whilst I'm steamed, it's all too easy to settle into that new shape and forget that I ever thought anything else. It's important to check, after temper, and be sure the grain still lies true, or if it's changed, that the arc can hold.
From the Apple, I have learnt productivity -- it isn't for me to dictate where my fruit falls, or who enjoys it. It's my job to grow it, and to make it as sweet and as fine as I can manage to do, and if someone will come along with bushells and trucks and take the lot to market, or the cider press, then well and fine, and go me. But it's also all right if nobody but the squirrels and deer and ants find it and sustain themselves. It's not like I can go on a creativity strike now, is it?
From the Cherry, I have learnt pacing -- I must see to the needs of root, trunk, branch, and leaf before the needs of the fruit can be taken into measure. I am more important than that which I might create.
From the Saguaro, I have learnt oportunism -- guard your critical resources as fiercely as you may, but when you find you've enough to do so, splash out with all you've got, and do your best to make something fine from it. Flower as soon after the rain as you can manage. Waste no time designing the blooms -- just get it up, and open.
From the Palm, I have learnt pride -- those too lazy to make the climb, or too fearful to navigate my barbs, may pick at the fruit which I drop. Only the worthy will come up to where my very best fruit hides, and they deserve all the sweetest I have to offer.
And from the Fir, I have learnt patience -- folks are just going to tie weird, tacky stuff into your branches from time to time. They're going to tart you up and make you look ridiculous, and it has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with them. Be patient. They'll probably take it off again sometime after Easter. Then it's the palm's turn in the barrel.
http://cluegirl.livejournal.com/
**With a special thanks to @anandangel for sharing this with me. You have always been been my wind.
