The stories trees tell
Narrative can show up anywhere. Sometimes a delicate piano piece ( think > “Schindler’s list” https://youtu.be/Tnj6COmS4ow ) will feel like the sobering soundtrack to some inflection point in my life. So when I hear it, the music beckons deep emotions to the surface. Beautiful cinematic music can do the same thing ( Think > “Dragonheart” Soundtrack https://youtu.be/GEzy8_67VmU ) Close your eyes and story surfaces.
Sometimes while coaching one of my teenagers, I realize there is a faint voice echoing my words. Quietly reminding me that the same principle I am lauding to my family, also applies to me. Humbling.
Nature is another “culprit.”
Nature always reveals a narrative. It’s nature’s job to woo us toward beauty, to underscore Truth, and to refute the idea of randomness by suggesting a divine design and a Designer.
Nature is notorious for illustrating life principles. Only the observant seem to see them. We should expect to see the clues and cues around us. When we do they become more obvious.
I recently had an overgrown cottonwood in my backyard. It desperately needed to be pruned. It had grown over my roof and had become a sort of expressway for a “band of squirrel brothers.”
I was told that as a general rule, I should prune and remove tree branches that were growing downward. I should also prune what’s dead or withering. And I should sacrifice choice branches to thin the canopy and allow light into the body of the tree.
As I was trimming some personal applications emerged. I need to see my life as something organic. Something that grows. Something that yields. Something that needs to be tended, trained, and pruned for optimum yield. Something that, left unattended, can wither and compromise my purpose.
We need to define what’s withering and what’s blooming in our life.
We need to feed what is blooming because that is where fruit will grow. Then we need to go all samurai on the rest because those are our down-branches - our distractions.
Our “Withering branches”, things like doubts, irrational fears, guilt, shame, self deception, envy, greed, lust, lies, bitterness (infamous for its roots) are the limbs that may not seem like issues when they sprout, but carried for years, they can become heavy liabilities that can fracture us without warning. The longer we insist on letting them grow the more vulnerable we become to injury and disease or even untimely demise.
Our down-branches will siphon off our best energy and resources. They will draw life away from healthy branches.
The stories trees tell are fascinating to me. If you crosscut a tree (preferably, one that has already fallen) the growth rings will tell you much of its life story. The times of drought and times of rapid growth. The times of sickness and abundance. The seasons of storm and gale. The seasons of sun and favor.
When I look at trees I often wonder what forces shaped some of the strange contortions their branches make? What happened there where the bark split? What left that huge scar - was it hit by lightning? What was happening in the world when a certain 150-yr old oak stood soldiering in a field outside Savannah as young sapling? Did it observe Sherman’s march to the sea? Did it shade the picnics of gentlemen and débutante’s?
I have a crosscut of my childhood walnut tree in my office. It was my thinking tree. My sleeping tree. My fort. My first squirrel-hunting tree stand. I still love that it looks like a heart.
Humans may not have growth rings... but trees can show us a lot about who we are, and they can offer us sage advice for the storyline ahead of us.
Trees can help us aspire to a life of usefulness and stature or they can warn us that it is possible to fall into disrepair and collapse silently in the woods without anyone knowing you were there.
I hope when they cross examine me. They’ll find an unusually big heart inside. That’s the payoff of pruning.
