Of all the things that I am committed to in this life; family, work, friends, faith - I'm also committed to being observant in these difficult times. This means that even in the most regular and mundane moments of my life I am looking for something to speak to me.
WARNING - overthought, artistic expressionism coming.
The other day I was standing at the edge of a heavily wooded area located near a neighboring farm. Winter was in full swing and an unseasonably warm afternoon was giving way to an incoming cold front. The wind was heavy and thick but high up in the air. It was the kind of day where the wind was determined to challenge the tallest of trees.
As I stood there watching old-growth trees sway in a sort of universal rhythm, I couldn't help but think about their collective commitment to reach ever-skyward. All of the sudden my deeply philosophical thoughts were interrupted by a noise that often goes unheard by the human ear.
(If I asked you what it sounded like when a tree falls in the woods, you might tell me that there would be a giant "cracking" sound followed by a sustained "whooshing" noise ending in a thunderous "fwump" as the tree landed in it's final resting place.)
I happened to be looking in the direction of the tree when it fell. The sound was so foreign to me - almost indescribable. There was no cracking or whooshing. It was as if the tree finally gave up. All at once it's core released a pressure that had built up over the last 20 years.
The tree was done. It fell alone in the midst of a crowd.
I was attached to this moment because I witnessed it. For the next 10 minutes I could not dissociate myself from the sadness of it all. Had this happened to me five years ago, I would've thought that it was the coolest thing I ever saw.
Not this time.