Book of Trees
Human beings yearn for solid things. We want to take root. Our desire to live acts as if we will outlast what we build so we make our foundations on solid ground of rock and steel.
But our souls are more like water, free to flow and move. Pouring to the sea, we are picked up by clouds to drift over the land. We return again as life giving rain.
We are not stationary like the plants. We do nothing like the sequoias who live mightily in the exact same spot for thousands of years. At best, we are like seeds blown on the wind or carried away clinging to the fur of wandering bears and lions, only to be planted by future generations to see what we were made of.