Back to the Drawing Board…

“Let me say to you and to myself in one breath: Cultivate the tree which you have found to bear fruit in your soil. Regard not your past failures nor successes. All the past is equally a failure and a success; it is success in as much as it offers you the present opportunity.”                                            -Henry David Thoreau, Journal, July 16, 1850                              

On July 12, 2019, Thoreau’s 202^nd birthday, I facilitated a kayaking retreat to Half-Mile Island. I gave it that unofficial name because it is a half-mile paddle from my house. On the backside of the island is a fascinating uprooted tree which I used as my teaching board. There are so many references to life in the underbelly of this overturned tree – the intricate shapes of the intertwining root system, the various sized and colorful stones and rocks and the shafts of light visible through the openings in the remaining soil.

I asked each of the retreaters this question, after giving them pause to study this uprooted tree of knowledge: “What element represents something from your past, that has remained hidden and now would be exposed for you?” The answers were as varied as the retreaters themselves. One said the intricate root system represented the lineage of her family, one said the big rocks represented burdens from her past she was still carrying, and one said the shafts of light represented openings for us to free ourselves from what was holding us back. This was the “tree of the past” that Thoreau referred to in the opening quote.

What do you see in the underside of this tree’s former place on land, and why do you think this tree chose to hold on to all its hidden features as it was toppled over in the storm?

Recently, I paddled back to Half-Mile Island with hopes of learning something new from this uprooted tree. To my surprise, the area around the tree was overgrown and I was unable to see its underlying treasures. What was once exposed, is now hidden again.  What do you think the tree was thinking, inviting the brush to provide cover? Did the tree feel vulnerable during these years? Were there things the tree wishes would have remained hidden? How about you?

I sat in my kayak near this tree and pondered those questions. Which only led to more questions for myself. How comfortable am I being completely transparent with my life? How does it feel for me to continue to release emotions, feelings and thoughts from my past, unburdening myself from carrying that load? I found my answers a few paddle strokes around the island.

There, another tree had been uprooted from a recent storm. This tree had the courage to leave everything that was attached to it in the ground. It’s overturned “blackboard” was blank. This tree offered me the “present opportunity” that Thoreau refers to in the opening quote.

Its larger rocks were dislodged to either side leaving a blank center in the middle. A space with few entwined roots. This tree cleared its slate and offered me the present opportunity to go back to the drawing board and create a new story for myself. What would I write? What is moving me to the next “something” in my life? What opportunities do I want to explore?

The timing of this clean-slated uprooted tree is perfect for me. Having just turned 70, the dawn of a new decade awaits, and often I infuse these milestones with hopes and dreams for the next ten years.

But as I stared at this open space of the underbody of this tree, I realized that every day, every moment, I can go back to the drawing board and re-write the script for myself. I don’t need a significant milestone to give me the impetus. I can do it continually in my life, and with each stroke of my paddle, move myself on my continuum.

The question I am pondering now is, “What kind of ancestor do I want to be?” I envisioned this question on the blank space of the uprooted tree. There is not enough room there for my answers, and that is a good thing. Each answer will keep me moving on the trajectory of the eternal. So that when I topple over, like these trees, my legacy will be enduring. And out there in the open for all to see.

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What element of the “past tree” speaks to you and how does it resonate in your life today?

What would you write on the blank slate of the “present opportunity” tree?

How do the lessons of each of these trees help you to go back to the drawing board of your life and write a narrative that serves you and the world?