Tree

It is Impossible to Climb Trees

Trees begin at one end, like most things. But even as you snuggle up under the shade with a good book, you don't realize that there are miles and miles of roots beneath you, supporting the thick torso at your back and anchoring this solid, unmovable object.

Years and years of patience and hard work and history lie beneath you, and you, oblivious to anything but the present (and that intriguing book) fail to realize that as much as the network above you is impressive, the network below is doubly so.

Before you attempt climbing, look up at the tall trunk; look up at the single road. You must cross this singularly long, uninteresting, predefined route, no matter how long it takes, in order to reach the top. It may seem so boring, so monotonous, and everyone is eager at the beginning to just get this over with, that they do not appreciate it for what it is.

Once past this obstacle, and up in the canopy, I guarantee you shall look down on that path with fondness, faint nostalgia reminding you of the times when everything was so easy, and the only thing that mattered was going ahead, and there were no choices necessary.

However, plenty of choices are required now. Your solitary course eventually splits into so many little paths, little choices, each obscured by strong green leaves. You can never predict the path you take until you are actually there after all, the concealing vibrant leaves may seem to mock you, but there are no decisions without risks.

Each individual branch changes your progression, as you choose blindly, or through hard earned experience. Mistake are to be expected, yet unexpected triumphs shall astonish you as you slowly gain the intuition necessary to avoid nasty entanglements, or branches too thin to support you and liable to snap and betray you to the bone-breaking ground. The whole process is merely a matter of trowel and error.

Finding fruits in a tree is never easy. Trees walnut give up their fruits of labour without a fight. They are planted in a myriad of places. Sometimes you discover them by accident, but usually you have to struggle and slog to reach the correct limb that you may have only glimpsed for a second whilst the leaves rustled in the wind. If you were looking for something effortless, you're barking up the wrong tree.

Hardships are to be expected, but more the scrapes, the scratches, the insect bites, the sweeter the fruit tastes. Strife has a way of hardening a person, of teaching them "Yes, that's right" and "No that's wrong" in an unforgettable whirl of pain, panic and surprise. Sharp edges of hypocrisy and indifference are sanded down as we learn to empathize with the untold fruit-seekers whom have dealt with the same. If the tree seems to appreciate the lack of barbed clamping hands, it's not telling.

At last, we reach the pinnacle of our journey, (lugging that basket of fruit behind us). We behold the world, from atop our leafy throne. We are at the midpoint of our journey, but this is most likely to be the peak of all our experiences, and let me remind you, they were no walk in the bark.

One by one, we peel our rewards and savour them. We are untouchable, hopeless optimists, willing embrace the future in its entirety, but equally unwilling to leave our birds-eye view.

But there is no halting the inexorable march of time. The discomfort of the precarious perch starts to outweigh the dizzying rush of the spectacular vision, and we know that we've stayed up too high, for too long. All that goes up must come down, and the memory of that buzzing high, surrounded by the blue sky and while the juice of your achievements runs down your chin and makes a sticky mess of your hands shall always stay with you.

Now it's just the difficult matter of getting down. It seems like mulch ado about nothing doesn't it? You may have traversed this avenue before, it seems like getting down is a simple task. You can see it now, gracefully stepping down from branch to branch. Let me tell you, declining is never graceful.

Inevitable slips, skids and accidents occur. Bought on from both, your deteriorating skills, and your overestimation induced from overconfidence. You are now simply a burden to the tree, an unwanted guest. You fulfilled your purpose and have been shed off like a dead piece of bark to languish in the remainder of your journey.

Good riddance too. Your stint in the sun has left you complacent. The addition of mysteries, tricks and glossy verdant leaves will only prolong your departure.

The last leg of your passage remains. The large uniform trunk that was a source of much impatience initially as well as fond remembrance subsequently. You are climbing in reverse, and the last time you placed your feet here, you were a different person.

Slowly, inch by inch, you agonizingly traverse the corrugated expanse. This time, gravity is your enemy, and a single slip could send you hurtling down to meet your maker prematurely. Your sharp edges have grown back, and you use these spines to desperately moor yourself into the tree. You want to be remembered, once you leave, and suddenly you find yourself indifferent to the pain you may be causing others. You are nearly done anyway.

Some prefer to slide down the last few feet, go out in a short lived blaze. Others prefer to take it slow and steady. It's your choice, and aren't you sick of choices already? But your feet touch the ground, no matter which method and you are done. Your epoch is over.

Trees end at where they begin, like most things. But even as you walk back home where it's time for dinner, you don't realize that just climbing trees is impossible. You didn't climb a tree just now. You experienced one.