If Trees Could Think



I have always in my seeming affinity with trees, been curious about them. I have even felt a certain communion with them from time to time. To me, they seem so magnificent, content, bold, and courageous as they stand solidly on one foot. When the storms come, the trees sway with the wind, open to the rain, stay steady in the cold. They flourish where they are. They seem to have discovered a secret about living.

But what if trees could think like we can? Would they begin to complain constantly about their lack of mobility? About who they are stuck standing by? Would they become proud as others gawked at their magnificent display of fall colors? Would they feel envy as they looked around at other trees? Would they be constantly trying to fix themselves so they could be new, improved trees? Would they become anxious as the storms came, anxious as they aged, afraid of what awaited them?

Or perhaps trees can think, and they have somehow managed to master their thoughts, to find tranquility and a sense of wellbeing amidst the barrage of information and feelings that flow on the waves of thoughts. Perhaps trees weep as they watch us humans caught in conflict, slaves to a state of disturbance that sends us on missions of misery and destruction. Perhaps trees feel compassion for us as they watch our dysfunctional relationship with thoughts keep us unavailable to the full gift of existence.

Perhaps we humans could learn something from trees. Perhaps…

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