“As an enigma among other enigmas, the human way of being alive only makes sense if it’s woven into the countless other ways of being alive that the animals, plants, bacteria and ecosystems all around us demand.”

~~ Baptiste Morizot, Ways of Being Alive ~~

A curious thing has happened in the woods where I walk my dogs.  A lone Arbutus tree-limb emerged from below ground, out of the dark forest, and crept above ground by a distance of ~16 feet to reach light at the edge of a walking path – just a smooth, thick limb, with no other Arbutus trees anywhere in the area, steadfastly marching to the light.

I’ve become personally familiar with this Arbutus tree-limb and duly impressed by its determination to reach the light.   I have questions. Did it travel a really long distance underground?  Perhaps.  Did it “decide” where to pop up above ground?  Maybe.  Did it actually come from a bigger tree very, very far away – or not from any bigger tree at all?  Hmmm…

Arbutus trees (Pacific Madrone) are native to the West Coast of Canada and are typically found close to coastlines.  They’re a species at risk due to climate change and opportunistic pathogens that attack stressed trees.  It’s not lost on me that these same conditions of climate and pathogens are stressing human populations at the same time!   But back to the tree-limb story.

In June of 2018 the heroic limb had crept to the edge of the path and was very happy there.  Nice green leaves were sprouting.  All was good.  I cheered its progress.  Then the Parks Board tractor came along and cleared the side of the walking path with sharp blades mounted on a side mower – the greenery on the end of the arbutus limb was slashed away.   The brutality of those steel cutting blades on soft red wood is traumatic.  

However, always, as it ever was, life wants to live;  so Arbutus performed a miracle move.

By October 2019, the limb had scooted itself over to one side, raised itself off the ground and wrapped around some tall scrubby brush at the side of the path.  This impressive strategy gave it light, protection and strength.  It now reached above my 5’9″height. Yet again, I applauded its woody ingenuity.

 It really is true that “In the particular lies the universal” (James Joyce).  I wonder: how can I observe one Arbutus limb over several years and be so enthralled with the lesson it offers? The answer is: because I’m here to witness it and because I see how  particular events can point to universal truths.  In this case: every form of being devises innovative strategies to live and fulfill their full potential.  That is, and always has been, the generative pulse of evolution.

How often does this ingenuity play out in wider Nature?  Constantly.  How do we witness these minor miracles?  By paying attention. 

In his book The Overstory, Richard Powers contends that “The ecological crisis is a crisis of sensibility”.  We humans are custodians of our unique sensibilities, primarily our capacity for self-reflective consciousness. We decide what to nourish of our own inner landscapes.  I empathize with the struggle, against all odds, of this tree-limb and feel proud of its determination to never give up.

In truth, we humans suffer from, and long for, the same conditions as this lone Arbutus tree-limb. We too devise innovative strategies to get what we need in order to reach the light of our full potential. Everything that lives has consciousness relative to its nature (in wider Nature). 

I’ve been inspired to document the progress of this lone limb over a ~5 year period and can attest to the richness of seeing the living Earth as an interweaving of all life processes. 

It’s a practice, this relational worldview.  

I’m reminded of a poem that speaks to ways of paying attention: