Three years ago Dan and I visited a public garden in a place we once lived and accepted the gift of a sycamore seedling from the arbor club member stationed at the exit. We layered the two-foot shoot in our suitcase between wrinkled vacation clothing and hoped the long sprig would survive the flight home. It did and we planted it in our yard near, but not too close to the towering lilac bush next to the deck.
This tree has become my favorite tree, not just because of its origin, but because of its simplicity and constancy. We haven’t done much to help it along. It thrives on its own. We put the tree in the dirt, watered it once, then sat back to watch it double in size, annually. Air. Water. Trust. That is all the sycamore needs to thrive.
An ornamental cherry tree planted between our front windows is both a delight and the bane of my existence. I work hard to tame its unruly branches with little success. Often its silhouette looks more like a person sticking their head out the window of a car, sprigs standing straight up to the left to the right, not gently leaning down in the waterfall effect I’ve seen in pictures. I’ve tried letting its bangs grow out and trim a little off the bottom. I’ve clipped off unruly parts with a heavy lopper. In the end, I wind up hiring a professional to tame the beast.
And yet, watching the ornamental cherry sway in the breeze I remember nothing worthwhile is easy. When I find a robin's nest in the crux of its branches mid-spring I forgive this tree and enjoy the short bloom it offers, almost as though it were an apology for all the trouble it creates. But if asked to choose between the exhausting cherry and the trustworthy sycamore, given the complexity of the broader world these days, I opt for sycamore over cherry any day of the week.
I find solace in simplicity.
I admire restraint in myself and others which feels like equanimity. I’m attracted to clean lines and the absence of clutter. I crave the absence of chaos. I look away from ornamental cherries and turn my attention to stalwart sycamores. Accountable people are my rock stars. I will always vote, especially in the smallest elections. The loudest bang no longer has my attention.
I wish many kindnesses for people not within my personal orbit and ask the universe to care for them because I cannot fix what is wrong with them. A year and a half of a pandemic and more years than that of political vitriol have all but tapped me out. Now I choose to direct my focus and use my reserves to nurture those within my family system, friend system, and community. I trust I will be able to open my arms a little wider when I’m called to do so but only if I am careful to sit in the silences and welcome simplicity whenever possible.
Air. Water. Trust. That is what I need.
Turn off the noise. Let in the light. You are precious. And I’m still here.
Copyright (2021) Suzanne Bayer. All Rights Reserved