“oh how i long to be a real tree. last christmas i overheard a fascinating story about a stuffed rabbit that became REAL! miraculously transformed by the power of love. i wish someone would love me that much. i wonder what a love like that feels like…
i am the recipient of temporary love, if you can even call it that. a product of strange ritual of mostly forgotten origin. even i don’t know why they bring me out each year, but i do love to be on display again. i love to be wrapped in lights and dressed in bows with beautiful shining adornments on each of my branches. i love to bring cheer and spirit and smiles to my people. but sadly i know my glory won’t last. soon i will be stuffed in a box again. forgotten.
oh how i long to be a real tree! to smell of fresh pine! to dig my roots into the earth and grow as tall as the sky! i just need someone to love me a little bit more…”
-the velveteen tree
tree-cycle. by- adventureclubviral
I lost my palms, my fronds, and lastly my wit. I stood tall for so long next to palms all along the block that i lived all my life. I was losing and dying, I was awaiting my calling, watching the younger and stronger grow ever older and taller. When the time came I was ready. While they cut me down I stayed steady- (still with my wit and the grit of withstanding the pain that a chainsaw can produce) so steady as i was cut to the ground. And packed away the same day, driven in some bags to far away. The last photograph ever taken, of me in my pieces, was from the back of a black pickup truck.
“She comes outside about once a week, usually towing a large weed eater and garden bags. She putters around the rest of the yard before she lays her sights on me. Setting the weed eater and other small tools aside, she grunts and curses under her breath as she approaches with thick rubbery gloves. There is no need for her tools here. She pulls and yanks frantically at me. It never works. My roots are already deep. They are growing under this cold gravel, trying desperately to penetrate the nearby asphalt. How i came to be she does not know. Why am i here? She does not want me, but i am here and i will grow. I WILL grow! And her rubbery hands and meager strength are no match for me.” by- amy.
“oh yeah, i’ve still got it. look at all of these sorry shmucks blending in with the night. not me baby. not me. owww! check me out!”
just in! rare! never seen before! excerpt from an epistle written by a tree to a photographer!
…You did a pretty good job on me. I like the way you enhanced the red my background and brightened the green in my foreground. The opposition of stop and go- the impression of being stuck on one side of me and then free on the other. I have been photographed thousands upon thousands of times. I am surveyed constantly around the clock. I am a beacon of descent and departure. I am among memories of flight tucked up inside memories of freedom. I am a home stretch, stretched between old homes and new homes. I am a tree on the edge of two worlds. I stand tall between them, leaning neither this way nor that, my posture speaks my posturing as such: I have no judgement of these worlds. I simply observe. My roots took hold between these two worlds long before they meant so much in contrast to one another. I did not choose to be born on the border. I did not choose to be the specimen that I am, the backdrop object that I appear to be, nor the subject of millions of desperate faces, searching gazes, passing glances, or camera lenses. I am writing to thank you for the honesty in your photograph. Because it is not a peaceful picture. Mine is not a peaceful life here on the edge.
“when i say i’ve seen it all, i mean i’ve really seen it all. trunks like mine don’t get this thick overnight! no ma’am. i’ve been growing and watching over this land for longer than i care to remember. i’m the only one now, but i used to have acres of company! one by one the others vanished- perished of illness or were uprooted by giants from above. it’s a shame really that i’m the only one left to see this beautiful sunset. that’s ok, i will keep it for myself. look how my branches glow!”
-the only one left
“people pass in the night and rarely anyone looks up. you don’t have to lift your gaze very far I know, but even if you do the are few who will notice me at all. i’m the invisible visible tree: scrawny in size and un impressive in stature. i bear no fruit. i offer no shade. i remain stuck where i’ve been stuck- a victim of circumstance, destined to live out my days surrounded by pavement, watching people pass in the night.”
– the invisible visible tree
rare excerpt from an american tree-house autobiography:
“…i remember when she turned eleven. because that was the beginning of the end. i was fortunate back then (as i still am today) that there were other, fellow, tree-houses in my cul-de-sac that i could compare such things with. certainly no tree-house nearby was (and still not) as grand, inviting or capacitating as i was (and still am). but they all had their kids just as i had my daphne. and daphne was truly the most fortunate child on the block. all my space and all my love was all for herself. every child in the neighborhood wanted to be daphne. every child wanted to have me up their tree. and every tree-house in town wanted to be like me.
those were the good years. those eleven years. daphne’s father built me when she was born. he built me before he knew- before anybody knew- how much she would love me. he started walking her up my ladder before she could walk. she crawled around my floor before she could talk. one day, daphne’s father simply stopped- on his way past the top the ladder- depositing daphne into my sturdy wooden lap. she was only four and i knew then that his trust in me was deep in his bones, like my devotion to his daughter was deep as my roots. anyway i raised that girl for eleven years as a tree-house, tree-fort, hide-out, club-house, home-base, stake-out, safe-house, sleepover-house, haunted-house, secret-house… you name it- as a tree-house- i’ve been it. it was when she turned eleven that things…”
and if i find more of the excerpt i’ll be sure to fill you in.
“But those trees! Those trees!
Those Truffula Trees!
All my life I’d been searching
for trees such as these.”
– from Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax
chances are you live amongst trees. trees may live amongst you as well depending on your dwellings…
in nature the varieties of trees are bounteous (let’s hope they stay that way). you may be living right next to a birch tree, evergreen, palm, apple, lemon, maple, aspen…etc…the list goes on!
trees also abound in literature, religion, mysticism, mythology and our collective consciousness. the garden of eden houses the tree of life and the tree of knowledge. yggdrasil is the tree of the world in norse mythology. in greek mythology, daphne turns into a tree to escape apollo’s advances. siddhartha achieved enlightenment underneath the bodhi tree. perhaps you’ve encountered trees in your dreams.
this week adventureclubinteractive assigns you the task of searching and speaking for trees.
step 1. each day take a photo of a tree.
step 2. each day write a paragraph in the voice of the tree.
share your findings! you just might be our next featured seeker! please submit all completed masterpieces daily or in totality by sunday january 20th via email: firstname.lastname@example.org
twisted senses – does it feel how it looks? i don’t know. i couldn’t get close enough but i have been eyeing this tree for a few months in my neighbor’s yard. is it fuzzy and prickly at the same time? by adventure seeker- amy.
hey adventure seekers! join the adventure: contribute your masterpieces!
be a featured seeker on adventureclubinteractive. submit completed assignments via email email@example.com