“Don’t dig the sharp edge of your machete in the tree trunk when you take a break. Please leave it on the ground.” I requested the workmen, who habitually rested their machete by driving it into the dark trunk of a droopy evergreen. ‘Why?’ they asked, as they sipped their coffee, sitting underneath it.
“I am sure it hurts the tree when you do that. Also, it’s unnecessary. Isn’t it?”
‘Okay. If you say so’ their face expressions said, but they did listen.
The tree that had been the same height for a year, grew visibly taller by at least two feet within six months. It is a Casuarina, which looks a little bit out of place in the tropics as it resembles a pine but is hardy enough to thrive along the windy and salty coasts of South India and North Australia. In Goa, young families of eagles inhabit the tall Casuarinas along the beaches. If you listen carefully, they whistle in the wind, like some people do.
The more time I spend with trees, the more I learn the truth. To witness them and have them witness me, to listen to them and have them listen to me, to touch them and have them touch me is building a bridge of stillness between us, a link of authenticity that can be trusted. The trees are older and wiser and yet they do not preach except by their sturdy presence and steady growth through decades of change. No judgements. No resistance.
A tree is purely itself, no matter what. It inspires me to be the same, simply me.
It gives shade to all without setting conditions. It flowers and fruits without a plan.
When things get tough, it stays, without a thought of running away. Every leaf on it is magically different. It is home to so many. It cares not about the past or the future yet documents its life in rings. Its slow breathing reminds me to slow down mine.
Walking and driving through tree-tunnels makes me feel held snugly and safely in the arms of Mother Earth – the roots from either side meeting beneath me and the branches above. In trees I have found friends, who mirror me and make me feel at home in my body, exactly where I am.
“In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves.
Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.”
- Hermann Hesse in Trees
May there be trees wherever you are.