Most of the trees on our land are natives; aspens and cedars and two large old ponderosa pines, looking down on all the rest. We also have a katsura tree, not native to Idaho, which come autumn has beautiful yellow leaves. Sometime ago I noticed that the katsura was approaching peak color, and thought to be sure to check in with it later in the week. I forgot about the tree, though, and three days went by before I again consciously looked at it. Amazingly, it had not only passed the magic time when its yellow leaves seem illuminated from within, but had then also lost almost all of its leaves. All in three days. As I bemoaned my forgetfulness, I thought how a beautiful moment had arrived and then departed without my awareness being present to cause me to stop and take note, even though it was there for me to be aware of all the time. I passed near the katsura several times during those two days, but was unaware of its transformation from a tree in full autumn splendor to a tree beginning the long sleep of winter here in the northcountry, near the limit of its range.
If one has been fortunate enough to encounter a teaching and to have the help of a teacher, one begins to see that this inattention is the default state for us. And that the possibility of coming to a state of greater attention is a possibility to be embraced. All very true. But my thoughts about the katsura tree were moving in a different direction. I was wondering about what is lost, not only by me, but by the tree, by that moment in time and space, and by the connection between all three, when I am not present. You see, I had received an invitation to a special event, I had RSVP’d, but then when the time came I did not show up. The event wasn’t a celebration, which would have been the case if it had been early May, when the katsura was once again leafing out, and, in a matter of only a few days, coming alive to the rays of the sun, warming well past the equinox, heading on towards another solstice. Nor was the event a memorial, rather it was a marking of another passage in the life of this tree. I had missed it, but the quaking aspens nearby had attended. I had of course suffered from a lack of mindfulness. But I had missed the rite of passage of the katsura for another reason, as well. You see, I am one of those creatures, Homo sapiens, that might also be called the people of the box. I wasn’t paying attention because I spend my life almost entirely in boxes, only noticing my fellow travelers on this planet when I move from one box to another. We call it being inside and outside, but if I am outside and awake to my senses, I see that the difference between the two is enormous beyond words. For outside is the real world of all the other creatures. All trying to express through their way of living what it means to be alive. They might be willing to tell me a little bit about what they know, if I only would come to a stop, be still and wait, but the ability to hear what is being said is now atrophied from lack of use and is almost gone. It is hard to participate in the great conversation of being that surrounds us, for we are nearly deaf and dumb. We possess the means, our senses, but no longer have the facility.
The largest of the trees on our property, one of the two ponderosa pines I mentioned, is now starting to show the occasional cluster of brown needles that it develops as winter begins. Most remain green, but every year a few turn as the cold weather sets in. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go out with my dog, Rory, and sit a while underneath the big tree, and wonder about a life spent rooted in one place for hundreds of years, and what that might be like.
Comments are welcome
I am so very busy myself that I cannot imagine. spending my life rooted in one place. Yes…imagine the view from that perspective. It is also good to notice what you missed; that is an awareness in itself.
Thanks, Chris. I wonder what is it to be busy for a tree. Are some trees less or more?
Good to hear from you.
Hello Dennis,
I appreciate your provoking thoughts about time in the life cycles of trees. We have had an extraordinary apple harvest here in NY, and the fall colors are hanging on late.
Can l reach out to you with another question?
When you pose a philosophical thought or premise, I, like most, apply it to my life and the dynamics I am currently sorting out. The United Methodist Church is in the process of splitting into the UMC and Global Methodist Church. The cause began with a widely difference in thinking about how the church deals with the LGBTQ factor in the life of the church. Can pastors who are gay serve a church? (Our rule book says ok, but not if the person is practicing.) Can they marry a gay couple? (No, according to the rule book, the Book of Discipline). But these rules were broken and the church court went “easy” on those offenders, although slow to actually respond. A special study group was formed, and with Covid and difficulty some members of the group from Africa were having with traveling, reform was delayed. This led to a conservative United Methodist group in Texas forming the Global Methodist Church. My pastor relates the entire issue to how you look at Scripture–basically, do you accept the entire Bible, Old and New Testament, as your guide in your life? Do you live by both Testaments? Should both Testaments operate in the life of our church?
Of course, I believe the Old Testament provides us with the story of how God created the Universe and then established his relationship with the Israelites. God interacted with them on a regular basis, as He/She tried to tame the wild beast. The Israelite religious leaders adopted over 600 rules for the people to follow. Success was limited. When God sent Jesus, a new covenant was formed, i.e., love God with all your heart, strength and mind, and love your fellow man; follow God’s commands (the 10 Commandments). That’s it. All goodness and truth emanates from that proclamation.
The problem arises now in that each UMC church needs to decide if it will join the Global Methodist Church or remain in the United Methodist church. To me it’s similar to being either a Republican or Democrat. Our church here in East Troy struggles financially, and cannot afford to shrink in size. I believe and support a vote to remain in the UMC, but somehow feel the need to interact with those leaning towards Global affiliation or just leaving the church, as we will be taking a vote soon.
Our Katsuma tree is losing it’s leaves and soon will be bare unless we can find a way to exist as one body, loving and accepting our fellow man in spite of our differences. We have had multiple meetings led by our pastor, yet differences remain. I pray my up-coming conversation with one of our church leaders who is conservative, will yield a middle ground where we can all exist in love and acceptance.
Good to hear about the apple, harvest, David. You can reach me at my gmail address, if you prefer.
What a beautiful meditation you offer us…quite beautiful. I find my thoughts are like the katsura leaves; here one day, gone the next. Although you missed the beautiful light of the peak colors, it seems the gift given was greater than color this year. This is quite a clever tree, inspiring this thought in you. Perhaps you and the tree are closer in mind than you realized, and I think you simply observed something new this year. No loss, no regret. Only new learning. Clever tree!
Mitzi, I am sorry for what you are facing. I feel for both you and your pastor. I hope you find closure in whatever form it may appear, be well, my friend.
Ah, Raven. My watchful companion. Like your namesake, aware of both intention and manifestation, you see what the author means to say, then you deepen it.