Twig - Parenting - Billionaire

I was a small tree, a mere twig by anyone’s standards. I couldn’t make more than a few leafs, through which I embraced the warmth and energy of the sun. My roots take in the water and nutrients that keep me alive and let me grow. I think nothing of my environment at this age. It is all I have known. I see my friends planted elsewhere. Their soil lets them bear more leafs and makes their trunk strong. I’ve lived and grown in this spot my parents planted me in. I stay close to them trusting as they stay close to me, sheltering me from winds that would blow me over.

In time, a small creature comes at me, and starts chewing at my trunk. In excruciating pain I find I can do nothing to scare it away. I wonder what could happen. “Could it possibly cut me down?” The beaver seems to tire and it waddles off into the forest leaving me, its victim, to deal with the wounds it caused. Having defeated this trial, and still recouping from my pain I think, “that wasn’t too hard, I bet I could take on more.” Curiously I consider, maybe this has happened to them. I glance at my parents’ trunk and find to my surprise, an abundance of gnaw marks they have grown into. These marks seem similar to mine, until one day it rains and makes a puddle behind. I see a reflection of a side I haven’t seen before. There is a deep wound that goes deep to the core. It’s so deep; I can’t imagine I’d be as well off if I had it. They’ve had so much pain of their own to live through. With hazy soberness I feel thinking, “If I face a similar wound I should survive as they did.”

Sometime later having grown and holding many more leafs, another creature comes to attack me. The wounds from the last attack seem only a superficial wound now. As the predator begins to feast on me, the residual feelings of pain come alive again, making this experience all the more real. Soon just like the last, it gives up. My resolve is strengthened. My belief in my perseverance is reassured, but I am left in the dreadful clutches of a psychological fear. Days turn into years. Many more wounds are inflicted. On my own power I stand tall, learning to grow into this harsh world I’ve found myself in.

In a daydream I imagine myself an apple tree. We’ve grown tall with a strong trunk. Wounded with marks of the past, we now hold a multitude of leafs. Roots run deep taping as many sources of water and nutrients in our reach. With all that we have achieved we contemplate passing it on. This year we are going to grow fruit; fruit to live in the world we grew up in.

With the highest of hopes, we sprout flowers to creat the new life of an apple tree. The liberating relief of beginning this journey, once enthralled with anticipation, inspires friends to share what they learned in their experience. All too soon the flowers grow heavy pulling at branches. In the back of my mind I start to wonder if beauty has been diminished. The flower, now an apple, becomes much more real. The thoughts of what is to come start filling my mind. Preparing in every way we can imagine, I feel the day is near when the apple will fall to the ground and start its own journey.

With such high anxiety of the very moment, the apple falls. A new life is born. In our embrace we shelter this apple as we watch its youthful exterior melt away before our eyes. One day, I see a sprout appear right in the middle of the apple. It has begun to tap its own sources. Soon I can no longer see the baby apple. Its roots grow deeper and its twig like trunk grows taller, holding its adorable few leafs for the whole world to see.

I notice I’ve been in a daydream and I awake. Knowing now what joy it can bring I ask myself, "is this what I want in life, or is there possibly something else worth considering?"

In the slumber of a nights rest my mind awakens. I find I am a tall tree with many leafs, and a strong trunk supported by roots that run deep. Inspecting my moderate wealth of leafs I discover I want more. Surely roots this embedded will support an unthinkable abundance of leafs. So I toil day and night, taping every source of food and water I uncover, transforming them as I draw them up my proficient trunk. One day with such a bounty of leafs, a gentle breeze shakes leafs which tug at my branches. I ponder what a stronger gust could do. Like the small start in a huge wildfire I find alarm ignited in me. With the desire for more leafs binding my interest, I turn some of the sources I have tapped towards my trunk. Gaining strength in hope that I could survive something so disastrous, eventually I find I can grow no more. I have consumed every resource within my reach. Now the only thing left to do is wield my achievement for all to see, hoping that such events that could bring my demise should never come my way. In a cold sweat I wake, asking myself in introspect “is this what I want? To grow powerful pride only to live dreading such imminent fear.”

I search for a meaning to my life while considering these eye-opening dreams. What purpose will my life bring? What could I accomplish to seem it has significance? Is there a meaning at all? Is it worth the pain living through these attacks that have formed a hole? Some creatures come to enlarge it. Birds peck violently. Ants swarm over. Damp rains soak. There are even things I cannot see. The harmless physique of wind greets spores of bribery. How much deeper can this hole get before I collapse? How empty must I feel before I can't take anymore?

This is obviously not going to do me any good dwelling on this, so I try to forget them empty feeling. Unable to overlook I search for something to fill it. I try things to ease the pain, things I consume to melt the concerns away. One day, what seems the perfect companion comes in. In elating relief, I enjoy the presence that satisfies my concern and makes a day worth living. The words spoken are like music to me, a sonata of warming affection. It comes making itself at home, filling this hole. Sure it takes getting used to, but there's nothing that can complete me as well. In sweet surrender to hesitation, I open up, my attention flooded with this fulfilling presence.

Things get old after a long while. I felt so whole then, why didn't it stay that way? This hole in me seems to have room for more, so I continue my search. I found this one thing that could complete me, so it can't be that hard to find something else to do the same. It seems that if I just keep busy enough, striving to accomplish some goal, I can keep the emptiness away. Why do I feel so alone anyway? I can be in the middle of a busy crowded forest, and feel totally alone, empty and lost. I wish I could just figure myself out sometimes. I can't seem to understand the point of it all. There are more why's then there are answers.

This companion I fell in love with gets tired of my unease. I can't figure myself out, so with brokenness, I realize it would want to move on. But I can't take it. An explanation feels as cold as space is empty. The distress I'm left in rapes me of purpose. I was strong then, but now I'm hiding in the shadow of collapse. Maybe I'll just give in; maybe I'll just give up. Maybe there is no purpose after all; maybe there was never a meaning. What reason is there for me to continue as these vicious predators tear wounds in me? That one was like a jewel to me, a priceless treasure. But now the unreliable reality is revealed and I am robbed of my attempt to live. Is this as deep as the hole gets? Can it be repaired? Can I just try to move on and start over in my dreaded attempt to live?

Do I need to try this parenting thing out? Should I give up that desire for freedom since being free leaves me so vulnerable? What if I gave up the attempt at a relationship totally? I would be free to try that other dream, I could reach for the stars; I could climb to the top. But what good would my wealth do me? Could it possibly be more completing than a companion? Why does it seem I can't fill this hole? Why do I feel so empty?

Pg. 4 Ó2004 Kai Napohaku