What Happens When I Watch Trees

I've realized that heating up my first cup of coffee a quarter to one in the afternoon could be a sign that my day has lost all potential to be productive. Lately I've been trying to be more mindful of my feelings and thoughts than simply reactive, so I'm ditching the thoughts that I may be a hopeless lazy bum and replacing them with simple acknowledgement of a slower day.

Today I've been completely distracted by the evergreen outside my window. It is a windy day and the boughs and needles are dancing so madly that it rearranges my concept of tall, stout trees. I'm sensitive to all their movements, how flexible and active they really are. I'll never know how many needles are on each tree, how many insects live on it's body, how deep it's roots truly dive, or be able to see it's creeping growth in every fraction of movement-but I don't feel a loss. I feel awe and appreciation for trees in a new way. Not just a "thanks for the oxygen and good looks" kind of way, but a gladness and joy at their feats.

Regardless of so much around them, they stand stories high, facing the wind and rain and still green and growing. You have to respect that fortitude. So many have forgot how to appreciate these wonders-like forgetting how amazing a child's rampant imagination can be, a few glimpses and we are over the novelty. But these organic wonders fascinate me so much more than any technology. Technology breaks, ages faster than a fruit fly-so much around us is ageless innovation.

The fiance and I visited the redwoods last month and I couldn't help imaging what those trees have experienced. I know that plants don't really have memory-heck, many animals don't utilize memory like we do, but I relate to objects in human terms and I'm amazed at what their memories could reveal. Over 2,000 years of storms, growth, evolution and eradication, meteors, eclipses, phenomena we may never be aware exists.

Recently I watched a BBC documentary series called "Wonders of the Universe." The hosting professor describes humankind as the universe coherent/cognizant. He also emphasizes how all of the chemicals found in the universe are produced in the lifespan of stars, how these elements were wrapped up in earth and how everything developed from the microscopic ashes of stars. When I think of things this way, the trees are our fellow beings-our star siblings.

Buddha's teachings say that humankind has a infinite capacity for wisdom, capability, and compassion. Compassion is usually considered in terms of human-human interaction, occasionally human-animal interaction, but when I consider the theory of our star-parents, I believe compassion can be applied to all star spawn.

Definitions of compassion usually infer suffering and sympathy for that suffering and I believe "compassion" is a limited translation of Buddha's intent. Many Buddhist works use loving-kindness as a more effective translation. When I think in terms of loving-kindness and compassion, compassion for fellow beings becomes expanded and not just limited to times of trial. Compassion and loving-kindness can be utilized during all times-joyful, mediocre, or otherwise.

If our capacity for compassion and loving-kindness is endless, why not spread a little love? I'll tell you what, it's feels dang nice. The trees don't tell me "thanks" when I smile and appreciate them, but the act makes me happy and that's all the thanks I need. Being a proactive loving-kindness delivery unit does take some work and a little focus, it can make you more aware of your surroundings and I'm definitely more sensitive to the tragedies around me, but it's never exhausting and it's always rewarding. So try a little love in your life-your capacity is endless, what do you have to lose?

In other news, we visited the Skagit Valley tulips on Friday. It was delightful and there were so many varieties at the Roozengaarde garden site. I was already a huge tulip fan, but now my affection has expanded. There is something so invigorating to me about tulips-their structure, their colors, I love them!

The cats were begging for food this morning and the fiance ended up chasing them around the apartment, throwing shoes, and shooing them out of the room (only to have them scratch and claw at the closed door). I was not enthused either (mostly by his hullabaloo) and my morning got off to a bit of a cranky start (thus the one-o'clock coffee).

Here's some recommended reads this post reminded me of: "Walden" by Thoreau and "Joyful Wisdom" by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche