How a tree in NYC taught me peace
No, but for real
I live in New York City. Manhattan, to be exact. And frankly, I debated what the appropriate title for this piece should be. I wanted to name it ‘How a tree in my backyard taught me how to meditate’, but that seemed wrong considering the fact that I don’t even have a backyard.
My apartment is not street-facing, but rather, I live in a unit at the very back of the apartment, mercifully silent and away from the outrageous 3am truck honking that NYC is known for. This means that instead of a tree-lined street, I look directly into my neighbors fascinating lives.
Of course, some keep their ongoing private, tucked behind thick curtains or frosted window panes, while others flaunt their lush plants and Le Cruset cookware. But I digress, because this story is not about the people inside, but rather, the singular tree, outside.
I grew up despising nature, until I realized, it was less of the nature I hated, but more so, the people I was forced to spend time with. But really, isn’t that true with all things in life? It was only once I started spending time with people I loved in nature, did I recognize how much good time spent among whispering leaves, blades of grass, and rushing water did me.
Of course, life is cruel in some ways, and so wonderful in others. I landed in the concrete jungle, far from meadows and oceans. And when I moved, I couldn’t breathe. Yes, yes, my lungs worked fine, the oximeter read 99% oxygen saturation, but no matter how hard my lungs worked, I never really felt like I had taken a deep breathe.
This, is where our tree enters the story. Through tears, smiles, and all four seasons, the tree stood strong. And it looked the same to me everyday, so much so, that it became part of the backdrop, un-moving, like the painted white bricks behind it. It was pretty, but nothing spectacular.
One day though, a rapid blur of red caught my eye, and I spotted a cardinal streaking through the leaves, flitting from one leaf to the other, and I sat transfixed, that somehow, this one tree, surrounded by tons of concrete and steel, could hold life. I was hooked, and I found myself starring out at the tree every spare moment I had.
And the longer I stared at the tree, the more pops of life appeared to me. Hidden within the leaves were birds of all sizes and shapes, all co-existing peacefully within the ewes of their protector. If the tree lived, so did they, their lifelines intertwined.
Perhaps I too, could tie my existence to nature, and breathe when it breathed, cried when it cried, and raged when it raged. Watching the tree reminded me to ground in my own emotions, and to take time to process the nagging feelings at my heart, even when it was easier to stomp them down.
No matter how big the storm (and mind you, the gust winds here are no joke), the tree stood, and reminded me too, that with the proper support, I could also withstand the severe beatings of life.
Now it is spring, and I watch again as colorful buds lift from the bare limbs of my mighty tree. I’ve had a season of sadness and sorrow, but just as the tree, I find myself searching for the seeds sown deep within me, and hoping with a little hydration and sunshine, spring will prosper.