There is a quiet and ugly truth to the bare nakedness of the land. In the past few hours, I've passed by thousands if not millions of trees, all stripped naked by the great Canadian Winter (I'm sure they are all eager to come back to life)
But there is so much truth in all the nakedness and empty spaces.
1. It unveils the cold distance between each tree, showing how lonely each tree actually is.
2. It uncovers the environment in which they grow in, not only the shape of the clouds, but the darkness of the earth.
Oh yes, there is a small but noticeable distance between each and every tree. It tells us, that even in the thickest of forests, every tree needs it own space. Not the 'first world problems' kind of a 'need', but this space actually dictates the life of a tree: A room to take in nutrition and a room to grow, for growth is the essence of life, and with out it, we are left to die. Eventually we too, must find our own space for growth, and nutrition. Otherwise, we will die. But we do not die. We stand firm. The cherry blossoms, not because of its beauty but because its roots are deep, the earth is strong and the sun is bright.
Some require greater space, for larger the tree, deeper are its roots. A tree with out sufficient roots is a tree waiting to break, and a tree that does not live up to its roots, is robbing its neighbors of their precious space..
- How much space have I reserved for my self for growth? for nutrition? i.e What are the restrictions/limitations to my growth/nutrition?
- How deep is my root?
- What kind of a tree do I want to be?
Which brings me to the environment. By environment, I mean everything that surrounds and shapes the tree, and everything I would perhaps not have seen, had the trees been full of life and color. I bring this up, because I rode by a small quarry in Southern Ontario. And though it wasn't a very big quarry, there were trees planted on the side of the railroad [evergreens] to block the view into the quarry. I was certain it was to block the view, since there weren't any trees on the other side of the quarry. Ironic, how trees are used to block the view into a mine site.
The point is, by taking the train in this time of the year, I got to see all the small houses that I otherwise would not have seen, I got to see the horizon, and even the dirt-y earth it self. Some times, it takes solitude, to realize that life is not as strange and mysterious as we make it out to be. Stop looking within, start looking around. We look so hard to find the truth in the fruits of our labor, the colors of the wind. And though we see the fruits of the spirit, we must remember that what shapes our lives, what makes us who we are does not lie in those fruits that fall away. Perhaps what or who we are surrounded by tells much more about our selves than what we actually do or think. Perhaps life is beautiful, not only when the castles we have built are full of lights and glamour, but when the lights go off and finally unveil the beautiful night sky (litt up) with twinkling little starts.
Perhaps its time we unsew the fig leaves and uncover ourselves; and maybe we will feel no shame in our nakedness, our leaves will not wither, we will stand firm like a tree planted by streams of water.
