Our Roots
So it dumped a bunch of snow here last night, and one of the big maple trees in front of my building fell. I heard it about 6:30 this morning -- a big 'crack' followed by a really loud crash. I rolled over, looked out my window, and this poor thing was laying there right up against our building.
Just to give you a sense of how large this tree is, it grew about ten feet in front of the building, and as it lays on the ground, it stretches the entire length of the building. I'm not great with distance, but I'd bet it's about 100 feet tall. Just a huge maple tree that must have been living in that spot 75 years.
It's funny, because the guy I'm see is a landscape architect, and he was telling me just last night about how to plant trees in urban spaces to protect their roots. Buildings -- not just their foundations, but their physical presence and how they change water and nutrient flow into the soil, how they compete with trees for space and sun, etc. -- hinder trees' development. They won't grow as large or as be as healthy as if they were growing with only other trees. They hit a certain size/maturity, then they hit a period of inevitable decline. They become more prone to disease, have a harder time fighting off bugs and rot, and generally just begin to die.
Sure enough, when he took a look at the tree that fell, the roots were entirely rotten -- only a little living wood was present. It made me wonder about the ways we're vulnerable to the slow decay that comes from our soul's being crowded out by all the trappings we surround ourselves with. I love my apartment (sure beats living outside!), and I'd go so far to say that shelter is an essential part of my life. But my apartment building's not an essential part of that maple's life -- it got in the way of its growth.
Like my 'need' for validation. So long as I rely on that fertilizer instead of naturally healthy soil, I'll only grow so big. What's more, I'll leave myself increasingly vulnerable to rot from the inside. . . .
Or my addiction to business. As long as I run from one meeting to another and pack my day full of activities, I don't soak up life as it comes -- I gorge myself on parts of it and choke off others.
My poor tree is headed to the chipper tomorrow, and I'm glad that it will likely have a helpful future back in the ground. But I sure did like looking at it every day, and knowing that it was helping to keep the air a little cleaner. And I hate knowing that it could have lived a lot longer and grown even bigger if it hadn't been crowded out. Hopefuly we can honor my tree by learning from it -- what crowds you out? What keeps your roots from spreading as far as they need to go to give you a solid foundation? What gets in the way of your soaking up the nutrients you need to truly live? What's left you stuck in the shade? If we can identify these things, we can begin to change them. The maple might have lacked the ability to alter its environment to protect itself, but we don't. So before we find ourselves roots up when a little snow falls, let's get rid of some of the stuff getting in our way.
Love,
Becky
Just to give you a sense of how large this tree is, it grew about ten feet in front of the building, and as it lays on the ground, it stretches the entire length of the building. I'm not great with distance, but I'd bet it's about 100 feet tall. Just a huge maple tree that must have been living in that spot 75 years.
It's funny, because the guy I'm see is a landscape architect, and he was telling me just last night about how to plant trees in urban spaces to protect their roots. Buildings -- not just their foundations, but their physical presence and how they change water and nutrient flow into the soil, how they compete with trees for space and sun, etc. -- hinder trees' development. They won't grow as large or as be as healthy as if they were growing with only other trees. They hit a certain size/maturity, then they hit a period of inevitable decline. They become more prone to disease, have a harder time fighting off bugs and rot, and generally just begin to die.
Sure enough, when he took a look at the tree that fell, the roots were entirely rotten -- only a little living wood was present. It made me wonder about the ways we're vulnerable to the slow decay that comes from our soul's being crowded out by all the trappings we surround ourselves with. I love my apartment (sure beats living outside!), and I'd go so far to say that shelter is an essential part of my life. But my apartment building's not an essential part of that maple's life -- it got in the way of its growth.
Like my 'need' for validation. So long as I rely on that fertilizer instead of naturally healthy soil, I'll only grow so big. What's more, I'll leave myself increasingly vulnerable to rot from the inside. . . .
Or my addiction to business. As long as I run from one meeting to another and pack my day full of activities, I don't soak up life as it comes -- I gorge myself on parts of it and choke off others.
My poor tree is headed to the chipper tomorrow, and I'm glad that it will likely have a helpful future back in the ground. But I sure did like looking at it every day, and knowing that it was helping to keep the air a little cleaner. And I hate knowing that it could have lived a lot longer and grown even bigger if it hadn't been crowded out. Hopefuly we can honor my tree by learning from it -- what crowds you out? What keeps your roots from spreading as far as they need to go to give you a solid foundation? What gets in the way of your soaking up the nutrients you need to truly live? What's left you stuck in the shade? If we can identify these things, we can begin to change them. The maple might have lacked the ability to alter its environment to protect itself, but we don't. So before we find ourselves roots up when a little snow falls, let's get rid of some of the stuff getting in our way.
Love,
Becky
posted by Becky at 2/12/2006 10:18:00 PM
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