Goodbye, Gentle Friends

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1362

Abstract

s and methodically dismantling its limbs with his roaring chainsaw.This could not be happening. Why in the world would our neighbor cut down two perfectly healthy-looking and unsuspecting gracious living things? I watched as, one by one, the branches fell to the ground and as the tree’s trunk was sliced and tossed to the earth.Frozen, I shed a silent tear. I quickly offered up a prayer of thanks to the peaceful giant for its service over the years as I knew it was gasping one of its last breaths. I couldn’t watch anymore. I was done.As I closed the window, I wondered why these two trees meant so much to me. Somehow, watching them fall unearthed the reverberations of so many things I had been feeling for so long.I realized that watching the dismantling of these beautiful trees through my bedroom window felt exactly the same way as watching the number of senseless tragedies around the world.I understood that I couldn’t explain why some people deliberately contributing to the pain and death of others. I assumed I could do nothing about it but watch the anguish pile up by the minute on my television and my social media feedd. And I couldn’t explain why my neighbor would pay someone to dismantle her beautiful trees. Again, I assumed I could do nothing but watch.

Options

My neighbor’s back yard is really none of my business, but I can’t deny that I will miss watching squirrels play amid the branches of my august twin friends. I am filled with melancholy and a sense of powerlessness as I watch the trees and our citizens taken down by the quick cuts of the saw and the virus.I listened as branches fell. One by one. Slowly ending the life that once was.We’re not truly powerless, though.I’m not, anyway.I have the power of a seed in the shadow of the towering pines. The power of my own actions in the face of a colossal monster.And I can plant my own seed and hope that it will grow to make a small difference. I can patiently wait for my own tree to grow, inspire my peers to make humane choices, and hope that it will eventually oxygenate our planet’s air so that we can one day breathe again.Goodbye, gentle friends. You have not lived in vain. I will sprinkle the generosity I have soaked in from your rustling boughs throughout the world until I encounter my own chainsaw. May we all rest in peace.In the words of the great Nelson Mandela, “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”</article></body>

A metaphor for these times

My backyard in Southern California is adjacent to the backyard of my neighbor one street away. The two properties are separated by a five-foot tall brick wall topped by Bougainvillea.

Every now and then I stand on my tiptoes and chat with the old woman that lives on the other side of the wall. I remind her that she’s welcome to pick oranges from our tree and we periodically shift as the sun slides down the sky to take advantage of the shade from her two very majestic Coulter pines.

This morning as I began to work, I heard a prolonged grinding rumble outside. At first, I thought it was a nearby leaf blower or our gardener Freddie, but after a while, I got up to look outside. My heart dropped as I watched an orange-clad man clinging to one of those beautiful pine trees and methodically dismantling its limbs with his roaring chainsaw.

This could not be happening. Why in the world would our neighbor cut down two perfectly healthy-looking and unsuspecting gracious living things? I watched as, one by one, the branches fell to the ground and as the tree’s trunk was sliced and tossed to the earth.

Frozen, I shed a silent tear. I quickly offered up a prayer of thanks to the peaceful giant for its service over the years as I knew it was gasping one of its last breaths. I couldn’t watch anymore. I was done.

As I closed the window, I wondered why these two trees meant so much to me. Somehow, watching them fall unearthed the reverberations of so many things I had been feeling for so long.

I realized that watching the dismantling of these beautiful trees through my bedroom window felt exactly the same way as watching the number of senseless tragedies around the world.

I understood that I couldn’t explain why some people deliberately contributing to the pain and death of others. I assumed I could do nothing about it but watch the anguish pile up by the minute on my television and my social media feedd. And I couldn’t explain why my neighbor would pay someone to dismantle her beautiful trees. Again, I assumed I could do nothing but watch.

My neighbor’s back yard is really none of my business, but I can’t deny that I will miss watching squirrels play amid the branches of my august twin friends. I am filled with melancholy and a sense of powerlessness as I watch the trees and our citizens taken down by the quick cuts of the saw and the virus.

I listened as branches fell. One by one. Slowly ending the life that once was.

We’re not truly powerless, though.

I’m not, anyway.

I have the power of a seed in the shadow of the towering pines. The power of my own actions in the face of a colossal monster.

And I can plant my own seed and hope that it will grow to make a small difference. I can patiently wait for my own tree to grow, inspire my peers to make humane choices, and hope that it will eventually oxygenate our planet’s air so that we can one day breathe again.

Goodbye, gentle friends. You have not lived in vain. I will sprinkle the generosity I have soaked in from your rustling boughs throughout the world until I encounter my own chainsaw. May we all rest in peace.

In the words of the great Nelson Mandela, “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”