Wednesday, 02 January 2019 07:06

Our Power and Our Responsibility

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I don’t remember being fixated with trees during the first twelve years of my life, living in New Jersey, maybe because there were trees everywhere. Big deciduous tree forests that grew fast and dropped a lot of beautifully colored leaves in the fall; trees were just there and I probably took them for granted.  That changed when we moved to Colorado.

I had just turned twelve years old when we moved. We had visited the year prior while on vacation and I was captivated by the Rocky Mountains.  When we moved a year later, we settled in Conifer at about 8,300 hundred feet above sea level.  Our two acres had been part of a pea farm, or so we were told, so we had zero trees on the lot or pretty much in the immediate community.  After growing up with trees everywhere, the entire family found this odd, but for some reason it especially irked me.

Through the turmoil called my family, in those seemingly rare moments of tranquility, at times we would come together, once to plant couple of trees. However, the growing season at 8,000 feet plus above sea level in Colorado was considerably shorter that at sea level in New Jersey.  Most of the trees we planted lived, but they grew incredibly slow.  I watched and watered them, and checked them constantly. By the time I was gone, the trees while still alive, they hadn’t grown much at all, but I was hooked.

When I arrived to Phoenix, I realized it was very hot and I quickly learned the significance of shade. And so my passion for trees began in earnest.  When I purchased my first house, I researched a bit and planted a Goldwater Pine. This tree originated in Southwestern Asia, thrives in heat, drought and wind and is extremely fast growing.  I planted the tree myself, kept it fertilized and watered it on a regular basis.  Daily I was out looking at the tree, monitoring it, assessing the new growth and watching it grow.  Often, due to water, fertilizer the tree would grow three feet a year.  I have since realized there was another key ingredient.  When I sold the house and we moved, the tree and subsequent trees I had planted died.  Note to residents in the desert southwest, although trees may look healthy, they will always need to be watered on a regular basis.

Our next house was on a cul-de-sac on a third of an acre. The back yard was huge and naturally, given we were in a new subdivision, it was treeless.  You know what I did; I planted trees, thirty nine in total.  Of the thirty-nine, twelve were queen palms around the new pool, two fruit trees and the rest pine’s.  These trees were my passion.  I would walk around the yard several times a week and assess their health while monitoring the rapid growth.  My mom and sister reminded me of a story that I had actually forgotten. They had coordinated with Kristine to surprise me with a visit and unbeknownst to me, they were hidden inside our home when I arrived.  They heard the garage open and close, and waited to jump out at me in our bedroom, only I never came.  They waited and waited; finally my Mom went searching for me and found me in the backyard.  She watched as I made the rounds, one tree at a time.  At each tree I would stop and envelope them with love.  She crept silently behind me and asked, “Do they talk back to you?” 

Good times and even better memories; this is me in my element, but recently I realized that there is a parallel. It is going to sound obvious, but the same applies to those we meet whether that is a child (especially a child in fact) or someone hurting in some way.  We are all energetic beings and we affect each other energetically, sometimes only a little and at other times a lot. This is a beautiful truth and an amazing power we have.  With it, we can comfort, help and support each other.  And with this power comes grave responsibility, especially with children and those hurting in some way.  Let us strive together to be part of the solution instead of part of the problem.

Let us help one another on this journey.

Happy New Year!

 

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