Being alive

It was a giant Eastern White Pine with several main trunks, one of which must have come crashing down, perhaps in a recent wind storm. It measured something in excess of 18 inches in diameter and was clearly weakened by internal rot, not that you would have seen anything before the massive limb fell.

It’s about appearances. A tree or a house or a person can, on the outside, look solid and strong and healthy. Yet when facing extraordinary stresses, unseen weaknesses may become apparent. They were there all along, just not visible externally.

This image highlights one aspect of the disease this old pine was living with. We can see the rot and, if we work at it, we can see something that transcends the rot, something I call beauty or balance or equanimity. The connection sometimes seems tenuous to me. Can I see the disease and decide there’s beauty there as well? It’s not easy. But highlighting my kinship with this broken tree, broken but still living, is an attempt at celebrating a less visible blessing of being alive.