This is how we writers start: Tiny figures hunched at the bottom of metaphorical Giant Redwood trees. We can crane our necks up until the bones creak and crack – and still not see the top – and the girth of the tree makes walking round it both arduous and long.
But, if we lie on our backs and relax, we are able, finally, to see the vast trunks narrowing and, through them, the spears of welcome sunlight striking the green sward.
All around us, under our tree and its companions, are other tiny figures, all trying to work out the best, quickest, safest way to get to the top.
The tree continues its arboreal existence. It cares nothing for our puny humanity and brittle hopes. Its breaths are gigantic and slow; its heartbeat pumps millions of gallons of sap into the vessels; its cycle of life disregards our needs.
Perhaps, as we lie at the bottom, at ease with the rhythms of nature, we can learn something from this thrumming of vegetable life: That the mad dash to reach the top takes us ever further away from the roots, the nutrients; that looking down from a perilously high position takes away our close connection with soil and forest creatures, sun-warmed bark and the falling of leaves.
If we look up and dream, a magical world is forever at our fingertips.
If we reach the top, do we not then have to shave off all the spurs, or even pull the tree up after us (in a manner of speaking) so that the hordes below are not able to join us in our lonely eyrie?
Tree of Writing.
Tree of Life.
Spheres and wisdom, realms and otherworldy beings.
Tree…
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tree/
Pingback: Tree of Writing — Chronicles of an Orange-Haired Woman! – The HeartStorm
This is beautiful Ali and a timely reminder for all of us to remember how important it is to be grounded; to cherish our roots. We have a tiny universe thriving round our roots.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Jan: It started, as labour does, in pain – but something unexpected was born from that. xxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Rebirth of Ali? xxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I think so, Jan. xxx
LikeLike
I. Love. This. That is all 😊🌲
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much.
LikeLiked by 1 person
😊😊😊😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Sue Vincent – Daily Echo.
LikeLiked by 1 person
xxx
LikeLike
xxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautifully done, Ali…and if we get too far from our roots, what would we have to write about? xxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Exactly, Sue: That was very much at the heart of this one, although it started with me looking up in a certain amount of despair! xxx
LikeLike
At least from the ground, we can’t fall off 😉 xxxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Heehee! Very true, Sue, unless seriously bitten by the barnweasel, of course!!! xxx
LikeLike
We can live in hopes 😉 xxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
xxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well I for one like being at the base of that great tree. Not too far to fall and mother earth is close by, smell the loam and feel the bracken. The best bit is all the leaves will in time filter down to end up grounded as gravity and time prevails, branch and leaf.
Leave them clinging on against the wind fearing the inevitable. Me? I’ll be collecting nuts… x
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very much my feeling, Ted. We strive, all too often, for illusions. xxx
LikeLike