Living Like a Tree

If we lived more like trees live, instead of clinging to whatever we acquire for as long as we can, our individual successes would be in part motivated by a desire to leave as substantial of a legacy to the people that come after us as we can just as we have gained immeasurably from those who have gone before us. Our fear of death could be swallowed up by the joy of leaving life lessons that will be not so much etched in stone monuments as they will be worked into the hearts of living, vivacious souls.

I have a fruit tree on my balcony that I’ve been trying to grow from a bareroot start, but sadly it’s thoroughly dead now. And although it makes me sad to think of the time I spent trying to save it and the potential that the tree had to bring fruit and shade and blossoms in spring, I’ve been thinking about the difference between a tree’s life and our own.

I’m not a tree pathologist by any means but I’ve had to write a fair amount about the life cycle of trees with my work, and there are some striking differences between how trees live their lives and the way we live ours. And before you say, “Well how’s that for the obvious statement of the century,” let me explain what I mean.

It’s so easy to personify trees, so I’m just going to say that the lesson I learned today is coming totally from a human perspective. But trees live in three main phases: growing, living, and dying in roughly the same proportions usually though there is obviously huge variation too. Seedlings grow trunks and branches reaching toward the sunlight and establishing roots in the earth to absorb nutrients and water. The tree reaches maturity and starts adding growth rings with some less lateral growth, and then gradually the tree is less able to withstanding the insects, diseases, and animal interactions and so over several decades the tree dies.

In some ways I’d imagine it would be easier to get used to the idea of passing on if we had decades to do it in. But I’ve been thinking today that I should work on getting used to death because I know it’ll come eventually for all of us. And like getting our will ready years before we’ll need it, it just means we have one less thing to worry about when we do meet our end.

Another significant difference us and trees is that trees know that future generations will benefit from what we leave behind. Every bit of a fallen tree is reabsorbed into the streams, soil, and trees surrounding it. So as a tree attempts to grow as tall and full and strong as it can, it’s also making preparations for having more nutrients to give back to the forest ecosystem when it eventually falls.

Do we take that same approach with our growth and ambitions? It was a sobering thing for me to realize that my approach has been much more self-serving. But I think the trees might have something figured out in their approach. They all try their best to grow as tall and as strong as they can, which of course promotes their own survival. But they have the added meaning behind that growth because they quite literally are a part of the last generations of trees before them and they know they will bolster the generations after them .

If we could live more like trees we would have so much less free of death because our purpose in living would be so much more expansive than just to cling to as much as we can for as long as we can. Instead, our individual successes would be in part motivated by a desire to leave as substantial of a legacy to the people that come after us as we can just as we have gained immeasurably from those who have gone before us. Our fear of death could be swallowed up by the joy of leaving a lasting legacy, not so much etched in stone monuments as worked into the hearts of living, vivacious souls.