Sunday, May 29, 2016

LISTENING TO TREES



Whoever has learned how to listen to trees
no longer wants to be a tree.  He longs to be nothing
except what he is.  That is home.  That is happiness.
Hermann Hesse

We spend our lives among trees — admiring them, climbing them, taking comfort in their shade, eating their fruits, using them for endless commercial purposes.  What we seldom do, however, is pay attention to the ancient wisdom that trees are constantly imparting to us.  Listen to the trees, said the great German writer Hermann Hesse, for they have much to teach us.  

For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers.  I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves.  And even more I revere them when they stand alone.  They are like lonely persons.  Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche.  In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves.  Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.  When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured.  And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
Trees are sanctuaries.  Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.  They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. 
A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life.  The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and smallest scar on my bark.  I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.
A tree says:  My strength is trust.  I know nothing about my fathers.  I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me.  I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else.  I trust that God is in me.  I trust that my labor is holy.  Out of this trust I live.
When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult.  Those are childish thoughts.  Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent.  You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home.  But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother.  Home is neither here nor there.  Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.
A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening.  If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning.  It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so.  It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life.  It leads home.  Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.
So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer live than ours.  They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them.  But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and  the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy.  Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree.  He wants to be nothing except what he is.  That is home.  That is happiness. 
 From Bäume: Betrachtungen und Gedichte
(Trees: Reflections and Poems)
by
Hermann Hesse 

12 comments:

  1. I so love this reflection on trees by Hesse. I have been listening to trees since a very young girl. The white pine of my childhood still stands, the very top still visible through the trees. I drive by now and then to say hello to it ... perhaps I should stop some time, walk to its spot in the woods and listen ...

    One of the very first poems I ever wrote (a long time ago) was titled, "Listen to the Trees." They are such wise old souls ... Thank you for this wonderful post.

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    1. Glad this piece resonated with you as well. If one of your first poems was "Listen to the Trees," you obviously know exactly what Hesse is talking about. While I have spent most of my life seeking wisdom from books, I increasingly find that nature, in all of its glory, mystery, and diversity, is actually our best teacher.

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  2. After three weeks without Broadband George, it is lovely to return and find that you have added to your blog - and such an interesting piece too.

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    1. Thanks so much, Pat. Good to be back, and glad you've reclaimed your broadband.

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  3. This is very beautiful, the pictures with these quotes. If there is one thing I want from life, it is to always live near a forest to get lost in.

    Thank you for your kind comment on my blog, George.

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    1. Thanks for your generous comment, Sabine. You and I must be cut from the same cloth. I, too, need to get lost in the woods on a frequent basis. By the way, I'm currently reading a book you would surely enjoy if you haven't read it already — Rebecca Solnit's "A Field Guide to Getting Lost."

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  4. I most definitely listen to trees. I consider them living breathing beings who have souls :)

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  5. Thanks for your comment, Keith. I agree with you about trees having souls. In some indecipherable way, it seems that all living things possess soul and spirit.

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  6. I live in a wooded area full of different types of large trees and never get tired of looking at them. They are enduring spirits. They contain many personalities such as reproduction, photosynthesis, beauty, sheltering, toughness, and giving, plus more. thanks for your words about trees. I am also going to look for your "Field Gide to Getting Lost. -- barbara

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  7. Thanks for your thoughtful comments, Barbara. Glad you enjoyed this post, and I hope you visit again.

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  8. Hello George, My time lately is spent walking among trees and studying the changes of a new season. Along one of the trails I use, several trees were felled by wind, their trunks splintered where they broke. Most of these are healthy trees - not the beetle-killed ones that still stand even though they're dead. It saddens me to see the healthy ones lose their grip - most of the fallen are lodge pole pines that have very shallow roots. Your postings always make me think. I'll remember Hesse's essay on trees the next time I walk through the forest.

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  9. Thanks for your lovely comment, Barb. Glad you liked the Hesse quote.

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