THE TREE

Written on the occasion of our wedding, September 2018

 

The tree is life.

Its immensity has the capacity to shock. Even in the quiet of the suburban street, the tree rises higher than the houses, reaching towards the sky as it competes with human architects for access to light. It’s easy to forget how tall the tree can be, how high we could go when, as children, we climbed it to the precariously swaying tip. Remembering might give us a jolt, a strange tingling in the soles of the feet.

The tree is a living organism that is bigger and longer-lived than ourselves. Its branches overshadow our homes, its roots buckle our roads, its pollen constricts our throats. This makes for an uneasy relationship, spilling over at times into distrust and fear. Then our response is to cut it down. We have been felling trees since we had the tools with which to do it, gaining fuel and building materials and creating spaces for agriculture.

The tree can also be a source of comfort. Its canopy shelters us from the elements, its trunk protects us from enemies and predators, its timber provides home and hearth, its fruit sustains us. We seek it out in times of storm, of social trouble, when we need to escape. In good times, too, it can be a reminder of joy, a site of discovery and shared experiences.

In the tree, we can find a friend. In the forest, a family. Each independent, but connected by a network of unseen roots, sharing information and resources. A society. Mammals burrow under the roots, insects are harboured in the ridges of the bark, birds build nests in the branches.

The tree is self and other, simultaneous, both life and a locus for life. Fear and fascination. Home in its essence; home in its gift. Sacrifice and communion. An independent life; a site for others to grow. Roots that stretch as wide into the earth as the branches reach high into the air. A perfectly imperfect mirror. A presence that lasts.

The tree is love.