The silence of the tree, the wisdom of life

Take a seed in your hand and it looks very small, so small that it might be overlooked altogether. Yet inside that same seed a whole tree lies hidden: roots that will go down into the earth, branches that will touch the sky, leaves that will keep the air alive, and fruit that will give birth to the life that follows. A human being is something of the same kind. A child is not only the present; the whole expanse of tomorrow lies hidden within. As a seed needs time to grow, so a person needs patience to grow into who he truly is.

When we place a seed in the soil and hand it over to the earth, that moment is not one of sowing alone. It is a moment of trust. We cover it, we water it, and then we wait. Nothing is visible to us, but within, life is doing its work. That trust, that something is sprouting even in the unseen: that is reverence, that is patience. A person's life too moves forward on this same trust. We sow the seeds of our dreams, our upbringing and our efforts into the soil of time. No result shows at once, but within, a quiet process goes on.

The more the tree spreads above, the more it binds itself to the earth below; its roots are not seen, yet they are what hold it up. Whatever is lasting in a person is also often unseen: values, upbringing, feeling and self-knowledge. One who is rooted within can stand steady outside; the one cut off from his roots is carried away on the wind, however tall he may appear.

The tree is not in a hurry. It accepts every season: it is scorched in the heat, soaked in the rain, and stands still through the cold. It grows only by gathering every season into itself. A person too passes through the seasons of a life: enthusiasm, struggle, tiredness, contentment. No season is permanent, yet every season teaches us something before it goes. The tree tells us that growth is not always fast; many a time growth simply means holding on.

It gives shade, but does not sit in its own shade. It gives fruit, but does not eat it. It purifies the air, yet never announces that it gave us life. Its giving is its nature, not a display. A person's life too finds depth when he moves past taking alone and begins to give, without counting, without announcing. One who lives only for himself tires in the end; one who lives for others as well finds a quiet contentment settling inside him.

The tree does not speak, yet its presence becomes the message. A person sitting in its shade feels ease without a single word. In a person's life too there are truths that need no telling; they reveal themselves in the living. Many a time the deepest impression is made not by words but by presence.

When the storm comes, the tree does not stand rigid; it bends a little. In that very bending is its protection. When a person too learns to bend a little before the gusts of life, he is saved from breaking. Rigidity breaks; flexibility endures.

The tree teaches us too that height and depth travel together. Whoever wants to spread far above needs as much patience and steadiness below. To be tall is not enough; to be full within is necessary as well. Otherwise the branches spread and the roots dry up.

Every year when autumn comes, the tree returns to nature its leaves and whatever it gathered through the year. For a time it becomes empty and light, yet that same emptiness later gives rise to new shoots and fresh greenery; what falls becomes the soil that gives life to that same tree again. From this a person draws a simple lesson. We too gain a great deal in life: experience, relationships and means. Learn, when the time comes, to let them go and to return them to society and to nature, because letting go is not defeat but the making of room for a new beginning. The person who understands this art of giving and of letting go finds a new spring arriving in his life every year.

And in the end the tree tells us one quiet truth of life: it stands to the last, it goes on giving, and even when it falls it enriches the very soil. Its end too becomes a new beginning. A person's life is part of this same cycle: to pass on what we were given, and to leave behind on this earth something that lives on after us.

Perhaps the essence of life is only this:

to stay joined to your roots, to grow with time, and to go on returning to life, quietly, whatever you were given.