We have two trees in the front yard that were beginning to surpass the electrical wires overhead, and one especially was getting too close to the upper live wires (not the one shown, which was about ten feet taller than this one pictured). They are only eighteen years old, and not that wide, but their height was becoming a problem, since the developer planted them right under the wires. The electric company wanted to cut them down, but they agreed to flat top them just below the wires
instead.
One is a Bradford Pear and it turned out okay. I was outside watching the tree trimmers work, out of curiosity, so maybe they took greater care as a result. The other is a maple, and she looks especially crazy now, after her cut. I wasn’t out there observing, like I did for the first one. They lopped her branches off in an uneven manner. She’s now about as wide as she is tall. Suddenly her little trunk doesn’t seem like it will be able to support the width, and from what I have since read,
that may very well be true. My poor Maple has a lot of healing and self-correcting to do. I pray she makes it.
I’ve since stopped to consider how a tree trunk gets thicker, because I’m hoping my Maple can begin to broaden her trunk to support the unstable weight at the top. I imagined that the bark has some sort of reproducing mechanism that allows it to multiply outward. With a little research, I was able to confirm that's exactly how it works. A tree never stops broadening, even after it hits its natural height and stops growing vertically.
Trees are always expanding, although they do begin to slow down with age. Humans are not that different. Hopefully we all continue to work toward expansion, continuing to pass our gifts onto others until we take our last breath.
When I came back outside, the tree trimmer asked me if the maple looked okay. I told him that I’m an artist and I prefer things a little more balanced. He had already put his equipment up and said, unfortunately, they only pay him to top them, not shape them.
After he left, I looked at it from the street and realized that from his angle, it looked more balanced. He probably hadn’t looked at it from any other angle to see how crazy she looks from other perspectives.
In tree cutting, abstract painting, and in life, we have to periodically step back to observe the whole picture and take note of what's happening. Otherwise, we won’t notice when something is off. The proverbial bird’s-eye view is an excellent tool for assessing what we need more of, what we need less of, what we love and what we want to change.
Recently, I heard a speaker share about journaling regularly and taking three days in December to read through her writing for that year. She joked about how she easily forgets the wonderful things that happened a few weeks ago, much less a few months or a year ago. It’s also easy to forget powerful insights, as time and new experiences fade our memories.
Her annual review of her journaling serves as a gift-tracker, as well as a record of the lessons she learned and the wisdom gained. By noting the year's highlights, she has a ready reference for gratitude, and also a guide for future decisions, which will help her avoid repeating past mistakes. During this time of recollection, she utilizes her findings to begin planning and identifying goals for the following year. How smart!
I journal several times a week, but rarely go back to read what I’ve written. Hearing about this speaker's process has inspired me to create my own year-end perspective. It makes sense to collect the fruits of each year in a way that memorializes them in order to solidify our experiences and support future growth.
Perspective is critical. As I said in the Tuesday email a few weeks ago
(click here if you want to re-read), anything of value is worth tracking. Our lives, our gifts, and our lessons are definitely worthy of our time, attention and intention.
Trees fascinate me. I love them so much that when I came out with the current edition of Finding the Gift, I added the reader's guide category, “Lessons from Trees.” After all, that’s how my journey with you began, which resulted in the poem at the front of my book. “Lessons from Trees” is a great way to end today’s email, as it’s also a reminder that foundations must be nurtured in order to sustain life.
A Lesson From Trees
All kinds of trees.
Living ones. Dead ones. New ones. Old ones.
On the rise. Old and wise. New and eager. Barely breathing.
Fragile. Strong. Healthy. Wasted. Flourishing. Fallen.
How is their fate determined? What chances did they take?
What lessons could they tell? What mistakes did they make?
Easy to predict the future of some trees.
Strong foundation, steady nourishment, support from balanced roots.
Thankful for their beginning, yet instinctively they knew.
Roots must continue to grow, if they are to stand strong on their own.
With arms lifted high and roots running deep,
In gratitude, more gratitude, ever growing right on through.
Two other trees more complex than these.
One with a strong foundation, broad trunk grew tall and bold.
Why then when nature called, did this one topple and fold?
Self-will. Self-reliance. Rotted roots never intertwined with others.
Pride alone left nothing to hold in times of trials and troubles.
Now on his belly, all that remains is… firewood.
And yet another tree. Different, but not unlike many.
Foundation fatally flawed. How could she possibly evolve?
Gaping hole clean through the base of her trunk.
Nothing there but air, full of emptiness and stares.
One more good blow and she would surely fall.
Not at all.
How then did this tree grow beautiful and tall?
She wanted to. She decided to. She was born to.
She acknowledged the hole and then looked skyward.
Slowly. Steadily. She used what she had and joined her roots with others.
She stretched and grew tall, and encouraged all to follow.
You will never know about the hole unless you look up close.
From the sky she looks the same. Her maker knows her name.
Those who can see all of her delight in growing strong with her.
Gratitude, Peace, Endurance. Truth, Hope and Care.
With Healing and Self Love, she now has fruit to share.
Angela Howell
November, 2003
