Life lessons we can learn from the trees

Editor’s note: This article was submitted on behalf of Eddy County Community Cares, a local nonprofit organization dedicated to creating awareness about mental health issues.

When I was young, I spent many hours with my friends the trees. I collected seed pods from maples and sycamores, desegmenting them as if I might find the secrets of the universe they held within. I collected the leaves from birches, sweet gums and poplars, pressing them in contact paper to make colorful collages. I would climb high in the branches, barefoot and ready to touch the sky.

Yes, I know I was strange child. I was also lucky child, for I had someone who understood.

My grandfather and I took long walks together, circling the blocks of his quiet Midwestern town. Along the way, I would stop to ask “What kind of tree is that?” He never tired of my questions, instead he stopped to show me ways to remember the names and characteristics of the trees. Some of his tips were more helpful than others.

“Do you know how tell a tree is a dogwood?” He would ask.

“How?” I’d reply with great curiosity.

No matter how many times we had this conversation, the reply always came out the same, “By the bark!”

And then we would laugh and hug. It was a beautiful thing.

Grandpa now rests between a towering Engelmann spruce and a lovely flowering crabapple. In the spring, his grave is scattered with spruce needles and blossom petals. It’s an image that always makes me smile.

When Grandpa passed away, I was attending college at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. It was a beautiful campus, home to more than 220 genera and 338 species of trees among the trails of its Thompson woods. Marberry Arboretum was also nearby and offered another 600 species of trees. Amid the ongoing grief and the resurgence of my depression, these places offered me solace and healing.

My love for trees continued through my academics and daily life. As I lived in different areas of the country (like Colorado, Wyoming, and ultimately North Dakota) I was introduced to many new trees and gained many new lessons. Some were tougher than others. I now laugh at my ignorance as a new Wyomingite who would pay $10 a pint for chokecherry syrup only to later realize that same tree growing in my backyard. Life is full of mishaps.

In 2012, my father died unexpectedly and everything changed in my world. Upon returning home for his funeral, I made a point of visiting a certain tree that grew on the edge of my grandparent’s property. It was a black maple that was planted by my father 50 years before. While everything else about that place seemed smaller, the trees – especially this one – were much, much larger. They had been patient and persistent, and offered new lessons.

These are some of the lessons that the trees have taught me thus far in my life. They are lessons that help me stay balanced in my mental health nearly every day. I offer them now as we celebrate state Arbor Day right here in New Rockford, with hope that readers might find something of value in them as well.

Take the time to look up at the world around you. It’s so easy to walk past a tall tree, and notice nothing but its trunk. But looking up, there is a whole world in the canopy, giving an entirely different perspective. You never know what you might spot in the canopy layers of a tree. If nothing else, the glimmer of the leaves in the sunlight can be an incredibly soothing sight. By taking a moment to appreciate simple details, our brains can actually shift their perception about any current situation.

Be strong, but remain flexible. Trees not only can grow to impressive heights, they can also endure centuries worth of storms. Their secret resides in their roots, which don’t just run deep but also wide, providing a solid foundation. The roots are what grounds the tree. When the winds blow, the trees will actually sway in the wind. They can bend under pressure by relying on their strong roots to offer both stability and flexibility. The more “root” connections we as humans maintain to whatever sustains us (food, art, music, sports, animals, plants, friendships, etc.) the stronger we can be in the face of a storm.

Embrace uniqueness, wherever you grow. Each and every one of us is different, and the same goes for trees. Each and every tree has unique ridges of bark, unique shape and distinctive characteristics - not to mention scars. Every tree is unique, growing the best it can in the setting it was planted. Trees help to remind me that no matter what kinds of situations we endure, healing takes time and can only happen in a way that is true to each of us.

Persevere, especially in the face of obstacles. In the days that I used to backpack high into the Rocky Mountains, it was always inspiring to come across a limber pine. These gnarly looking trees grow on the exposed rocky outcroppings, where no other trees survive. They grow slowly, for the season is short and the winds are fierce, but nonetheless, individual trees can live to be more than a 1,000 years old. No matter how many miles I had ahead of me, how hungry I was, or how many blisters I had gained, the limber pine seemed to whisper, “Carry on.”

Offer what you can to others. Trees do make the best of friends, simply by being themselves. They offer shade and a comfortable enough place to lean. Many species offer tasty fruits, seeds, and nuts. They provide homes for many animals, plants, mosses and lichens. Let us not forget the oxygen they provide. They give what they can within their own ecological community, and we are all better off for it. No tree stands entirely on its own. Neither should we. After all, being part of something— that’s what community is about.

Keep an eye on the future, but live for the now. There is a Chinese proverb that reads, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.” The last time my father visited, he planted an apple tree with each of my children. The two trees are still small, but they stand as a reminder of previous generations. When we harvested our first significant crop last year, every one of those fruits were cherished. Someday, the trees will be tall enough for my boys to sit under with their children.

In times when we are faced with sadness and grief, the best thing we can hope for is a sturdy friend to lean on. So I challenge you in the months ahead: find a tree to visit. Then just sit, watch and listen. Who knows, maybe we can all learn something to carry with us in our days ahead.