What I learned leaning on those generous entities along the way

I like trees. They make me happy. They inspire my pottery, and I want to write about them. Contemplating the blank page I turned to Google:

“A tree is a tall plant that can live a very long time.”

The world’s oldest tree is a Great Basin bristlecone pine, is almost 5,000 years old and fondly called Methuselah. From ancient myths to living relics, trees have a way of rooting themselves in our lives. Not quite of a methuselaen age myself—evoking that ancient, enduring spirit—I feel my connection growing stronger with age.

Trees are symbols of wisdom, resilience and of life itself, their roots deep in human history. Perhaps this why they hold a sacred place in mythologies, religions and philosophies worldwide, representing deep, philosophical concepts like life, death and immortality.

The Tree of Life, appears across cultures as the foundation of existence, bridging the gap between the physical and spiritual worlds, like Yggdrasil in Norse mythology, the Bodhi tree of Buddhist enlightenment, or the Māori tōtara, as a symbol of strength and grandeur.

These sacred trees inspire awe, but so do the everyday ones, and looking at them never gets old for me. I watch them change over the seasons, their pure innate magic and force growing from a seed – be it a cherry pip or an acorn – into majestic creatures dominating a landscape, a park, or a garden.  

Becoming a bit withered and crooked myself, I grow fonder of trees, recognising my own folds and wrinkles in the grooves of their bark. I see my own shedding and bending in their falling leaves and swaying branches. I am waiting for a bird to nest in my hair like in Radagast’s, becoming part of their ecosystem as I will soon enough when my physical body rejoins the universe eternal cycle as a sprinkle of dust.

For now, I live a content, quiet life and have a few familiar trees I often visit – my neighbour Big Tree across the fence, a walnut grove and a plum tree close to the pottery studio that is my happy place.

They inspire my craft, provide solace and beauty, shelter, nuts and fruits. There is no end to their generosity, just as there is no end to the inspiration they offer, rooting me in a cycle of life, creation, and quiet wonder.