Dying Trees

Nov. 5/2010

The trees are dying, and I can hardly disagree.  After all, we know full well that it is time.  It’s certainly not the first time; but you never know… it could be the last.  And that gives this particular death a certain precious and powerful beauty that so often remains unrecognized.

At times I have mourned with them, grieving the extensive loss of life that was once born from their blood and is now plucked from their fingertips by the cold wind’s ever-increasing cruelty.

At other times I have hoped for their triumphant return and believed in them and willed them to grow with all of my faith… and then rejoiced with all of my might when my wish came true.

But then, I would inevitably recoil at the first sign of sickness; alarmed by every yellowing leaf and heavily disappointed when the first one fell.

…

Why this resistance… this petrified aversion to things ending that need to end?  We put up our fists, firm in our stance that we do not want this; and in extreme cases ignore it completely.  Anything other than letting it be because THAT would be… be what?  An abomination?  Too difficult, or too easy?  To light or heavy… too absurd maybe?  Would it be too weird or too normal to take hold of the precious, powerful beauty of dying trees; to let them be and live for today?