It All Began in (CENSORED) / (Who) Are You Afraid (Of)?
Mark Twain National Forest - Marble Creek
Arcadia, Missouri; September 11, 2017
"But the best read naturalist who lends an entire and devout attention to truth, will see that there remains much to learn of his relation to the world, and that it not to be learned by any addition or subtraction or other comparison of known quantities, but is arrived at by untaught sallies of the spirit, by a continual self-recovery, and by entire humility...that a guess is often more fruitful than an indisputable affirmation, and that a dream may let us deeper into the secret of nature than a hundred concerted experiments."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Nature"
What sort of tree is it? I crane my branches down so my leaves can get a better look but it is to no avail. The tree (?) that appeared outside the lighted box is no more than a shadow without the brightness of the sun to show me the fine details of its bark, though it looks to be rather exposed, even in the veil of night. Had it been stripped of its outer layer by those who barely notice us? Had it fallen victim to...no, I don't want to think about it. To even consider it sends a chill that reaches my heartwood, and I would prefer not to have those terrifying visions haunt me in the darkness. However, it's obscure branches seem to be waving toward me, as if it is beckoning me to say something back. I reach deep beneath the ground, grasping for any roots the shadow may be casting toward my direction, but I feel nothing in my search...what is it??? The wind rustles through me and makes me shiver. I am still so wary of what gives rise in the night despite growing up here and laying my roots in the vast unknown. When will the day begin so I can make sense of what I'm seeing take shape in front of me? It seems so disconnected, so naked and alone. What does it want, and why does it seem so uncomfortable within its own sapwood?
I haven't always been this afraid, you know. Growing up, I was the first to dig the deepest into the ground below me, much deeper than those setting their own roots down. My small yet eager branches often turned upwards, inspired by the budding beauty and steely resolve of those standing next to me. Awe filled my being as life brimmed forth from the foliage above. One day, that will be me, I thought as I gazed at the sheer magnificence of my community. I will branch out and have the most exquisite blades. My roots reached for my mentors and held firm as I began to grow up into a tall drink of bark myself. Each season, my limbs would burst forth with a display of color, texture, and pattern that would dazzle my companions, often outshining their own efforts. As my mentors began to splinter away, my roots untangled from theirs, nervous that their decay would lead to my own. There was still so much light to explore, so much growth to discover...I couldn't have them holding me back from reaching my potential. The sun was my spotlight, and I continued to attain new heights as I extended myself up and out and below until I did it: I was at the top of the canopy.
Over the years, many of my neighbors fell away to the forest floor, downed by old age, invasive insects, deadly disease, and those who barely notice us. Their demise was agonizing to witness as the bright leaves that once adorned the canopy turned a wretched brown. Their branches twisted and turned till they snapped off completely. But the most terrifying part, outside the chilling buzz of a severing stick, was hearing the crash of their bodies as they hit the ground. Heavy, yet hollow, the pillars of excellence I once looked up to plummeted down as their roots upturned and separated from all they held dear below the earth. Their voices, the rush of the wind that trilled through their branches, forever silenced. The remnants of their rotting corpses served as both a reminder of their greatness and of inevitable death, but I was an independent tree on my way up; my roots were not as intertwined, but still I managed to stand tall on my own.
I should have known there would be a price for showing off so much; never did I anticipate the lesson being so severe, though. It had been a wet few days, which I didn't mind as my leaves basked in the rain, soaking up all the moisture that made me radiate. My roots, while buried deep beneath the soil, were also enjoying the flow of steady water dripping down from the canopy. Birds were bathing in their ornate nests, squirrels were playing tag as they leapt from branch to branch, and spiders were catching rain drops in their webs. It was another day in paradise...Then, in a flash, my outlook changed. Whereas once I believed my growth toward the sky would never end, a bolt of lightning struck that dream out of my pith, tearing through my protective bark to expose my very heartwood to the open air. The clouds scolded me with a booming rumble that reverberated across the land, scaring away all the life that blossomed within and outside of me. What had I done to deserve this? Why was I being singled out? With my bark ripped away along my body, I was vulnerable. My roots tried clinging to those around me, but fear kept me from reaching too far. I was alone to bear this punishment from the clouds as their thunderous roar made me cower down.
Now, this shadow appears before me, looking up as I once did the mentors of my youth. I remember being so impressed by their expressions of artistry, valor, and virtue. Each was diverse, yet their roots unified them as a whole; they reached for their own light, yet opened their branches to all. Sadly, the years following my collision with circuitry had not been as kind. My external scars warned me of what could happen if I reached too far toward the sky. Fear set into my pith, and I retreated away from the sun, dipping below the canopy. The seasons came and went, as did new buds on my branches, but the creativity that previously burst forth in a rich blend was not the same. My passion withered as did my leaves. Eventually, my branches began breaking away from my body, creating an uninhabitable environment for any of the life that used to keep me company on lonely days. My roots became a tangled mess, only able to reach a varied few who helped hold me up as my body swayed dangerously toward a tragic tilt. I was a shadow myself, hiding behind those who were brave enough to reach for the light still. Why was this mysterious shadow looking at me, then?
Perhaps it's just my imagination; it could be waving to those beyond me. I'm just a shadow, nevertheless, and when cast in the darkness of the night, I disappear. I cease to exist at all. It's only when the light pours down from those that tower above me that I am seen. Suddenly, the strange new shadow takes a bold step forward in my direction. Then another. Then another. It continues to advance on me until it is only a few feet away. I try to run and hide, but I'm stuck; I can only tremble through my twigs as I consider the fate that awaits me. I glance down and notice that the shadow is watching me sway slightly as the wind catches hold of my body. It begins to sway as well. My drooping leaves offer a small wave, and to my astonishment, the shadow waves back. Just as I'm about to say something more and extend a root, it scatters. As quickly as it advanced, it retreats back toward the lighted box and disappears. WHAT WAS IT?! Thoughts fill my forks and travel upwards as I consider what to make of this interaction. Why was it so afraid of me? Was it something I did? Why would it chase away from me so quickly if it was so bold to move toward me in the first place?
As the questions come flooding in, I'm reminded of a brush with another shadow many rings ago. At that time, I was very close to reaching the top of the canopy, joining the upper elevation with those I admired most. Fueling my egotreestical needs, I peeked down to cherish the view and noticed a small tree blooming the most luxurious colors and patterns along its branches. At first, jealousy took hold---I was supposed to be the most exquisite---but I immediately peeled back my bark when I realized the small tree was suffering. Its magnificent beauty was both the cause and effect of a rare disease; it was determined to share its charming features despite its impending collapse. Though it was living among the shadows of much taller trees, it did not let its height or outlook dissuade its bountiful expression. As I continued my climb toward the top of the canopy, I would often stare down at this unique treasure as it transformed and inspired greater creativity throughout the community. It did not wither out of fear; it did not recede its roots. In fact, many of the neighboring trees (myself included), offered a supporting root to hold it up when it was getting weak. Even in its death, the tree's last breath emanated so much hope and grace. It was a time I vowed never to forget; perhaps that's why I'm remembering it now.
The sun is hovering around the horizon as the box below opens again. It is one who barely notices us stepping out into the crisp air, stretching its limbs toward the sky as it saunters off toward the trees in front of the box. Was that the shadow from last night? I must have just been imagining it was looking at me, then, among the other shadows. Why would it have noticed any of us, let alone me? Countless hoards pass us by without even recognizing we are standing here...It moves back toward the box, but before it reenters and disappears forever, it looks back in my direction. Now, with the light illuminating its body, I notice it is also cowering down slightly as it glances over, perhaps trying to find a more ornate neighbor of mine. I realize then that it is staring directly at me, focusing on the shredded bark of my wound. Again, I want to run and hide as I feel my heartwood exposed to this stranger, but before I wither further away, I consider how my deceased neighbor found the strength within to blossom. As a result, I stand a little taller than before and feel the gentle wind pass through my leaves, whispering down toward the stranger.
What happened next will be etched into my bark forever...As it continues staring at me and breathing in my presence, it stands a little taller itself. Then, I stand taller. Then it, then me, then it...After a few unbelievable moments, I feel like the pillar I once admired, the pillar I once was, the pillar I still am within my pith. My branches, though gnarled, sway excitedly as I remember how it felt to share in the light with my community and watch the efflorescence flow through the canopy. My roots, though tangled, spread further to unearth new connections and strengthen my foundation. I notice, then, that this being is having a similar revelation: we are both seeing/feeling seen, hearing/feeling heard, connecting/feeling connected. The reciprocity is magnetic as we lift each other above the shadows and into the light. Then, it turns around, glancing back one more time as if to say thank you and goodbye, and is gone in the zooming box. I remain, reinvigorated yet calm. There is no need to be afraid, anymore. Just stand tall and let the light of your community inspire your greatest creativity yet!