On my no-word sabbatical some years ago I was walking through the woods and saw a tree that had been hit by lightning, split down the middle, but still growing a new truck out of the tragedy. My first thought was, "Now, there's an ugly tree."
A moment later, in the stillness of the forest, it occurred to me that I was the only one there judging.
Changed my life, and I dropped the judgment reflex I had.
Well, almost. I still have trouble with checked shirts and striped shorts.
I'm a tree person, as a birch is character in my memoir and a willow in a novel. Many metaphors found in trees as the more you learn about them, the more they take on human characteristics of being sensitive, survivors, providers. It's kind of a we're-all-connected kind of notion. A meander through a forest has an effect on us for healing, inspiration, and creativity, to name a few. A wounded-wood tree may appear rough and unattractive, but how might it still stands. A wonderful post, Grant!
Thanks so much for your kind words, Nancy. Love that you have trees as characters, because they are characters. I love all of the recent research about the ways they communicate with each other.
I've always loved trees and you've given me another reason to love them. I love this idea of covering wounds with life. The wounds will always be there in some way, but you can use them in a positive way by letting them fuel your writing.
On my no-word sabbatical some years ago I was walking through the woods and saw a tree that had been hit by lightning, split down the middle, but still growing a new truck out of the tragedy. My first thought was, "Now, there's an ugly tree."
A moment later, in the stillness of the forest, it occurred to me that I was the only one there judging.
Changed my life, and I dropped the judgment reflex I had.
Well, almost. I still have trouble with checked shirts and striped shorts.
I guess the ugly tree's beauty resides in its tenaciousness for survival. That's such an interesting story, John.
Wound-wood, I couldn't help but thing of the covering up of dead matter with live matter as a sort of self-burial.
Also, woohoo, first to comment haha. Ah, the simple pleasures of life, like leaving the first comment on a post.
Thanks for being the first to comment!
And ... I love the concept of a self-burial. And then resurrection ...
Dangit, you made the metaphor even cooler.
No, you did: you were the one who introduced "self-burial."
Think of*
What a lovely tale. I am extremely fond of trees, and the more I learn about their mycelium network, the more my heart breaks open for them.
I'm a tree person, as a birch is character in my memoir and a willow in a novel. Many metaphors found in trees as the more you learn about them, the more they take on human characteristics of being sensitive, survivors, providers. It's kind of a we're-all-connected kind of notion. A meander through a forest has an effect on us for healing, inspiration, and creativity, to name a few. A wounded-wood tree may appear rough and unattractive, but how might it still stands. A wonderful post, Grant!
Thanks so much for your kind words, Nancy. Love that you have trees as characters, because they are characters. I love all of the recent research about the ways they communicate with each other.
Love the metaphor of the wounded tree, and I learned something new! Never heard of this before! 😊
I've always loved trees and you've given me another reason to love them. I love this idea of covering wounds with life. The wounds will always be there in some way, but you can use them in a positive way by letting them fuel your writing.
Of the many things I didn’t know, this was one of them. Thanks.
I read this, loved it and remembered a word I once loved: cicatrix.