#talking trees

Dartmoor forest

We Are All Only Our Own

A weary man tripped and stumbled through the old forest, lost in the dark before the dawn. Finally, finding solace in a star-lit copse near an incredibly ancient Oak.

“Men,” an old, woody voice scoffed. 

The man startled, looking for the source of the word, only to gaze upon the ever-living, omniscient, primordial face of the Oak.

“There have always been men, for better or worse. Nothing can ever seem to destroy them utterly. They always rise from the ashes. Have you ever tried to fathom why? Why do they last when they are the only species that war among themselves? And kill each other? It doesn't seem quite right. Men always live to fight another day."

The old tree seemed exhausted. And the man did not fear it. So he sat before it and sought its wisdom instead.

 "Just how many have we fought?" 

The Oak grumbled deep in its trunk. "Countless. And for what? Glory? I will never understand the ways of men. The cruelty. "

The man was taken aback. "That is not why we fight, leastwise not my people; We fight for honor and freedom! Regardless, How do you claim to understand us when you are not even one of us?"

The woody voice spoke again quietly, "I have watched you for hundreds of years, and my ancestors watched for many hundreds of millennia before me. What gives you the right to judge your people?"

The man could not answer promptly. So he thought for a while, "Why indeed?"

"You have watched for thousands of years, and you judge us on our wars alone?  And if our wars are so atrocious, why have you never intervened? You sit in your forest glades and watch men slaughter innocents. But if we let you be, you are happy to observe. Is it because we are children of Men and you are people of the wood? Are we not all descendants of the almighty on high, older than the earth? So why do we argue? You are sage, yet you judge without cause. I am young and inexperienced compared with you. However, I, almost elderly, or even wise, by the standards of my people, am lost in the forest, and still, we argue. We are both too tired to continue creating strife between us."

He said this all very thoughtfully and quietly.

The Oak thought for some time before responding. "If men were ever right about anything, it's the maker's existence. And you are right; strife gets us nowhere. We are all children to the ages and the earth and should not be judged by shortcomings and struggles, but your wars are still your own, and your people, your people. I will not be blamed for the bloodshed of your wars."

The man stood in front of the great Oak and spoke again. "You are also correct, Mighty Tree; we are all only our own. But, as you will never understand men's wars, I can not imagine standing by to watch every great empire destroy themselves. Whether it be for greed or honor, so Great Oak, I must bid you farewell to rest for eternity. May the omnipotent lord on high bless you and keep you. " 

With that, the man took his leave and followed the rising sun east to the land of his people. 

Eskandar Sees the Talking Trees, from a dispersed manuscript of the Book of Kings (Shahnameh) by Firdausi (d. 1020)

Uzbekistan, Bukhara, 16th century