From Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:“I want to think about trees. Trees have a curious relationship to the subject of the present moment. There are many created things in the universe that outlive us, that outlive the sun, even, but I can’t think about them. I live with trees. There are creatures under our feet, creatures that live over our heads, but trees live quite convincingly in the same filament of air we inhabit, and, in addition, they extend impressively in both directions, up and down, shearing rock and fanning air, doing their real business just out of reach” (Dillard, 88).
When I think about the way trees extend in both directions, up and down, I cannot help but think about the way a singer’s voice develops and grows, extending up towards the sparkling clear tone in the upper range like sunrays or stars and at the same time delving deep into the rich lower range with a tone of earth and soil, thick and moist like cake. Both the tree and the voice extend up and down, and most of the time, all that we see and acknowledge is the blossoming and branching upper range. We often forget about what is not staring us right in the eyes. I nearly forgot until I read this passage that trees take root deep down into the soil as much as they reach for the sky. It is a very grounding thought. What is the top without the bottom? What would the singer’s voice be like without the solid base, taking root in the breath to blossom outwards? A mirror image comes to my mind, a tree reflected in a placid lake, branches reflecting in the water, almost unveiling the truth of the roots digging deeper underground, out of sight. A Yin Yang also seems relevant. The bottom roots of the trees are necessary for the top to blossom, just as opposites are necessary for anything to exist at all. How can we comprehend happiness if we do not know the feeling of sadness? How can we acknowledge beauty if we have not seen a certain ugliness elsewhere? What is light without darkness, day without night? The juxtaposition of these opposites defines everything we know, just as Gary Snyder first defines “wild” as everything it is NOT in his book The Practice of the Wild. My belief is that we have to accept the opposites as they are, delve into each to understand the other, just as debaters prepare themselves for a debate by learning possible arguments from the other side. I was never one to take sides on arguments between friends or family members because I could honestly understand both points of view and just accept it as it was. Why can't people stop being stubborn and open their eyes to the unseen? We must all remind ourselves to open our eyes, see the full picture, and enjoy life as it is, with all of its trials and tribulations. I now view trees as old and wise beings, watching creatures scramble around on this earth not fully seeing, not catching the present. They watch and whisper truths, and if we're still and open enough we can catch on to some of life's mysteries, just listening to the trees.
When I think about the way trees extend in both directions, up and down, I cannot help but think about the way a singer’s voice develops and grows, extending up towards the sparkling clear tone in the upper range like sunrays or stars and at the same time delving deep into the rich lower range with a tone of earth and soil, thick and moist like cake. Both the tree and the voice extend up and down, and most of the time, all that we see and acknowledge is the blossoming and branching upper range. We often forget about what is not staring us right in the eyes. I nearly forgot until I read this passage that trees take root deep down into the soil as much as they reach for the sky. It is a very grounding thought. What is the top without the bottom? What would the singer’s voice be like without the solid base, taking root in the breath to blossom outwards? A mirror image comes to my mind, a tree reflected in a placid lake, branches reflecting in the water, almost unveiling the truth of the roots digging deeper underground, out of sight. A Yin Yang also seems relevant. The bottom roots of the trees are necessary for the top to blossom, just as opposites are necessary for anything to exist at all. How can we comprehend happiness if we do not know the feeling of sadness? How can we acknowledge beauty if we have not seen a certain ugliness elsewhere? What is light without darkness, day without night? The juxtaposition of these opposites defines everything we know, just as Gary Snyder first defines “wild” as everything it is NOT in his book The Practice of the Wild. My belief is that we have to accept the opposites as they are, delve into each to understand the other, just as debaters prepare themselves for a debate by learning possible arguments from the other side. I was never one to take sides on arguments between friends or family members because I could honestly understand both points of view and just accept it as it was. Why can't people stop being stubborn and open their eyes to the unseen? We must all remind ourselves to open our eyes, see the full picture, and enjoy life as it is, with all of its trials and tribulations. I now view trees as old and wise beings, watching creatures scramble around on this earth not fully seeing, not catching the present. They watch and whisper truths, and if we're still and open enough we can catch on to some of life's mysteries, just listening to the trees.
1 comment:
Treevoice, Amanda! You have discovered Treevoice! This is the most exciting thing in the history of ever! We must practice this at Ferg, sometime!
-Cat
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