Catty-corner from our house in back stands a vacant home built in the latter portions of the 1800s. It's owned by a local real estate person who had started to fix it up, but dropped the project in mid-course. So, it's not a derelict; it's simply old and vacant.
The piece of property the house sits on is gorgeous. There is a sloping yard ringed by several large majestic trees. One of these trees -- the 3rd tallest cedar -- has struggled mightily with our many storms. It has lost two main limbs and numerous branches. During the major storm of December 2007, it took, what I thought at the time, would be its fatal blow.
The largest limb from the midpoint was ripped from the tree. Not only was the limb thrown to the ground, but a huge chunk of the main trunk came with it! When I surveyed the damage, I was certain that the entire tree would come crashing down the next time we had even a modest windstorm.
Though we've had several windstorms since, including a small one last night, the tree remains standing. I gaze up at it every night before I fall asleep and every morning as I awaken. I've even gone over to talk to it several times. What do I say? I thank it for its powerful message.
Life isn't always pretty. Storms are natural and each one can take a little or a lot from the best of us. As we age, we each resemble this majestic cedar -- we sustain nicks, cuts and gouges. But if we follow our path (as this cedar follows its own), we can continue to stand strong despite our less than wholeness.
We can still provide shelter for others. We can still nourish the community. Most of all, we can stand as testament to Tao, that mystery of life.
Inevitably, the mighty cedar will one day die just as each of us shall die. Trees, however, continue to generate and sustain life around them. As they decay, they enrich the soil which brings forth new life.
We can only hope that our deaths do the same.
The piece of property the house sits on is gorgeous. There is a sloping yard ringed by several large majestic trees. One of these trees -- the 3rd tallest cedar -- has struggled mightily with our many storms. It has lost two main limbs and numerous branches. During the major storm of December 2007, it took, what I thought at the time, would be its fatal blow.
The largest limb from the midpoint was ripped from the tree. Not only was the limb thrown to the ground, but a huge chunk of the main trunk came with it! When I surveyed the damage, I was certain that the entire tree would come crashing down the next time we had even a modest windstorm.
Though we've had several windstorms since, including a small one last night, the tree remains standing. I gaze up at it every night before I fall asleep and every morning as I awaken. I've even gone over to talk to it several times. What do I say? I thank it for its powerful message.
Life isn't always pretty. Storms are natural and each one can take a little or a lot from the best of us. As we age, we each resemble this majestic cedar -- we sustain nicks, cuts and gouges. But if we follow our path (as this cedar follows its own), we can continue to stand strong despite our less than wholeness.
We can still provide shelter for others. We can still nourish the community. Most of all, we can stand as testament to Tao, that mystery of life.
Inevitably, the mighty cedar will one day die just as each of us shall die. Trees, however, continue to generate and sustain life around them. As they decay, they enrich the soil which brings forth new life.
We can only hope that our deaths do the same.
When you sense everything has a meaningful purpose, then you evolve to rise above judgment and experience nothing but love. The impercepible is then perceptible.
ReplyDeleteWe too can finally decay and nourish the earth. I always felt cremation was the ultimate mistake a human can make. After a lifetime of taking, even in death we give nothing back.
ReplyDeleteI do not plan on being cremated if I can arrange otherwise.