Lessons from a Tree

Time seems to come and go these days.

This winter was heavy in terms of spending many days in bed where it seemed impossible to even get up and move to the kitchen. If this was also you, I feel for you deeply. However, during these days in bed, I stared out my windows at the giant cherry blossom tree in front of my apartment. I watched this tree be naked all winter as I also felt exposed in my community of being “inactive”. 

Depression for me may feel similar to other’s or may look completely different. If you’ve ever been surfing, it’s like when you have the board strapped to your ankle, you’re paddling out to the break, an unexpectedly massive wave comes and bashes you, pulls your board under, which ultimately pulls you under for a scary amount of time, and all you can do is surrender while the undertow and the board pull your further down. However, in the midst of tumbling in this wave, floating happens and you realize you can swim up… or you get pulled to shore. The cherry blossom tree in my front garden brought me back up.   

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As our snowless winter began to move into spring I observed how little buds began to shape on the tree. It’s as if she perked up a bit and the sun was drawn to her. Her limbs started creeping closer and closer to my window. I like to think she was trying to tap on the window to encourage me. 

When spring arrived it almost happened overnight; she bloomed a magnificent pink. She filled up the whole street with her glory. People stopped to take pictures, children spent all day under her playing in her petals, and I stared in awe at her beauty and even busted out my childhood climbing moves to wander up her. I opened my window every morning and touched her limbs in pure happiness. Starting each morning with a ginormous smile.

One dusk in particular will stay with me for many years. A storm was approaching and after years of living with this tree outside my window, I had an aching feeling that this storm would wash away her petals. Growing up in south Texas I have a special connection to storms, especially ones with lightning and thunder. I stood near the tree (I know… probably not a very smart move…) and embraced the sky as the rain began to come down and the thunder rolled in. Her petals began to cover me and there was this magical moment of not knowing if it was rain, flower petals, or both that were tumbling across my skin. It was a connection you only experience a few precious moments in a lifetime. 

The next day, the tree's petals were gone. They covered the sidewalks for two days and were trampled by hurried footsteps. What is now left is a bold beautiful green. People walk by on their way to their destinations without taking any notice of her. Even I catch myself coming and going from home without even acknowledging her presence.

I sit in wonder at this magnificent creature learning how for two weeks she, considered by our humanity, was in her peak season. For two weeks everyone gathered around and celebrated her. And she was just being. Moving in her pattern. Though she isn’t bursting in bold pink, she is still so active and full of energy. She is still important, especially to me. Even in those winter months when she is quiet and bare, she is being.

This cherry blossom taught me that I too can’t always be in bloom. I can’t always be at my peak. People aren’t always going to notice me or take interest in me. And when I do bloom, or when people do notice, it is fleeting. But also, it’s not for them, it’s just who I am, I am just being.