What is your first memory of a tree? What is your first memory of a forest? Do you remember how it felt? Do you remember what emotions came up when you stared up at this majestic thing? Do you remember you remember the wonder? What ever happened to the wonder?
“So now you must choose… Are you a child who has not yet become world-weary? Or are you a philosopher who will vow never to become so? To children, the world and everything in it is new, something that gives rise to astonishment. It is not like that for adults. Most adults accept the world as a matter of course. This is precisely where philosophers are a notable exception. A philosopher never gets quite used to the world. To him or her, the world continues to seem a bit unreasonable – bewildering, even enigmatic. Philosophers and small children thus have an important faculty in common. The only thing we require to be good philosophers is the faculty of wonder…” Jostein Gaarder Sophie’s World.
Well, I’m not calling myself a philosopher, and I don’t want to draw that division. I just say don’t let what should be precious become mundane. Don’t let what should be amazing become boring. Don’t stop yourself feeling wonder, it is not immature, it is not stupid. It is beautiful and it lies within you.
What’s your favourite tree? Not your favourite type of tree. I’m not talking ‘oak’ or ‘acorn’ or ‘apple’. I mean Where is your personal, one tree. The tree you love more than any other. Do you remember when you had an answer to that question? Have you ever had an answer to the question? I did, I put thought into it as well, it was a big decision, but a decision that needed to be made. It’s not a decision I need to make now. Now I often struggle to remember the last time I looked at a tree. I mean looked at a tree. Properly. In the face.
Tree’s were once our friends. Can they not be our friends again? Do they not deserve to be? They love us, I’m sure of it. I know they love us. But when love is not reciprocated it can turn violent, it can turn dangerous, it can turn deadly.
They have only ever tried, that we cannot deny, they have only ever tried to help us live. And we seem to have only ever tried to make it hard from them. We are the drunk, abusive husband who slaps the freshly cooked food out of the wife’s hand. We are taking the tree’s for granted. And they will take us to our grave.
Let’s hope so…