I'm sitting at my desk looking out at the snow coming down once again. On a more positive note, at least it's not blowing like a hurricane as it has been the last few days. My neighbor, the big tree next door, is being spared that assault for today.
I worry a lot about that tree. It's a huge, huge pine tree, 50 feet at least. In the three years that I've been living here it has taken a distinct tilt southward from where it was when I first moved in after all the windy beatings it has taken. We get some pretty good storms up here, both summer storms and winter blizzards, and 50 mph or higher wind gusts are not out of the question. While I'm certainly concerned for the house next door, and the people in it, should all or part of that giant come down, I'm just as worried about about that old tree itself. It has been here for more years than any of the houses or people in this neighborhood, or in this part of the country for that matter. It has seen decades and decades of history come and go and still it stood, giving shade and protection to the tiny creatures that call it home, and pine cones for their use. It has lived through wars, presidents of both parties, disease and disasters, and still it hangs in there.
I suppose I shouldn't worry about that tree. Chances are it still has a few more good years in it. Should the unfortunate befall it, it will go on to provide wood for people's fireplaces to keep them warm, and shredded bark to protect our children and grandchildren in the local parks, or as mulch for our gardens. It will go on caring for others because that's what it was put here for. When you talk about looking at the Big Picture, no one has a better perspective than Mother Nature.
We spend so much time worrying about things that we have absolutely no control over. We worry about what might happen, or what happens to others, or what shouldn't have happened.
"That the birds of worry and care fly over your head, this you cannot change, but that they build nests in your hair, this you can prevent." ~ Chinese Proverb
Nothing is written in stone. Nothing is a sure thing. As I wrote last week, death and taxes are the only things we can be sure of. That we spend so much of our lives worrying doesn't have to be a given either. It's taking the time we have and throwing it out of the window like yesterday's garbage.
"Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy." ~ Leo Buscaglia
That tree will probably outlive me and all of my neighbors. Worrying about it won't stop that. What I can continue to do is enjoy watching it, giving thanks for its beauty, its life of service to other living things, and all the lessons it teaches me every day. What do I learn from trees? Well, trees never worry about being as good as the next tree, about being acceptable to themselves and the world, or that they aren't as important, or useful, or their lives aren't as valid as, say, a mountain or a river. They teach me character, nobility, humbleness, and grace. They teach me to grab each day as if it were my last and live it with all the love and authenticity I can. And if the day does come when it is no longer standing outside my window, I will make sure to grab a branch to keep inside here with me right next to this desk so that I can remember all those lessons. Trees may come and go, but their lessons, like their lives, live on in others.
And so it is.
