Yesterday I went to the woods to talk to the trees, that's usually what I do when I need answers, I find their patience and stoicism easier to take than the uncertainty of my friends advice. They've never failed me yet: their message?...patience...take it easy...one day at a time. I appreciate everything they've shown me, the tenacity of the roots in the shallow earth, the constant search for nutrition, how they stretch out their verdant limbs to shade their children, the saplings, below.
But today?
"You wanna know something? We're tired..." they groaned in unison as a gust of wind stirred their branches, "...we get asked too many questions, it's not only you that walks through here you know, everyone wants answers to the big questions...but we don't know anything either, that's why we just stand here, we really don't have anything to share..."
Yes, but...why do I always feel better when I come here? Why does contemplating you make me feel more at one with my own nature?
"It's the placebo effect...it's all in your mind...we're trees, not prophets, sorry if you got the wrong idea."
"Meanwhile, stop by sometime, enjoy the foliage and the fall colors..." one particularly gnarled old tree replied, it's limbs crossed in a gesture of finality, "...but right now...we have nothing for you."
It's true, you know, they looked so unsure, unconcealed, stripped bare of their leaves, naked branches sticking out awkwardly from the trunks, stark treetops against the darkening sky. One fellow lay, uprooted by lightning or toppled by the wind, in the outspread arms of another. Prostrate on the forest floor, my fallen soldiers, once towering and vigilant, now laid out on the pine needles covered with blankets of dry leaves.
No, there would be nothing answered today, so I just watched the setting sun lighten their upturned hands, the fingers closed in silent prayer; no birds to sing to them.
I took a photograph...
...the lengthening shadows and the starkness.
I turned my back on it all, left the woods by the path to the main road, went back to light, to noise, to humanity.
But today?
"You wanna know something? We're tired..." they groaned in unison as a gust of wind stirred their branches, "...we get asked too many questions, it's not only you that walks through here you know, everyone wants answers to the big questions...but we don't know anything either, that's why we just stand here, we really don't have anything to share..."
Yes, but...why do I always feel better when I come here? Why does contemplating you make me feel more at one with my own nature?
"It's the placebo effect...it's all in your mind...we're trees, not prophets, sorry if you got the wrong idea."
"Meanwhile, stop by sometime, enjoy the foliage and the fall colors..." one particularly gnarled old tree replied, it's limbs crossed in a gesture of finality, "...but right now...we have nothing for you."
It's true, you know, they looked so unsure, unconcealed, stripped bare of their leaves, naked branches sticking out awkwardly from the trunks, stark treetops against the darkening sky. One fellow lay, uprooted by lightning or toppled by the wind, in the outspread arms of another. Prostrate on the forest floor, my fallen soldiers, once towering and vigilant, now laid out on the pine needles covered with blankets of dry leaves.
No, there would be nothing answered today, so I just watched the setting sun lighten their upturned hands, the fingers closed in silent prayer; no birds to sing to them.
I took a photograph...
...the lengthening shadows and the starkness.
I turned my back on it all, left the woods by the path to the main road, went back to light, to noise, to humanity.
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