Simple things, you might imagine, a tree. You see them everywhere, pass them on your way to and from work, walk under, around, and in between them in the park, and grow them in pots in your living room. I have a rubber tree in my living room, it’s at least 25 years old.
I own a little section of wooded property with mature oaks, maples, and hickories. I climbed a tall oak in the backyard a couple of years ago, just to prove to myself that I could still do it. I wish I could identify each and every tree I came upon, at the most I can name maybe a half dozen or so.
Trees silently tell me that I’m not so important in the grand scheme of things. I strain my neck trying to see what’s in their upper branches, but it’s only the wind and the leaves struggling against it. A battle that is never won until autumn.
I came across a very intreeguing article recently about burial alternatives. Did you know that you can have your remains put in a biodegradeable burial urn along with a tree seed of your choice and then be planted? I’m rethinking my burial plans, I suggest you do the same.
I’m also making a play list of songs I want folks to hear at my Final Party. Death Cab For Cutie’s “Stable Song” will be on it, because it’s beautiful, and so are you.