Birch trees are special to me for many reasons. I love their thin paper trunks with their mustard color autumn canopy, and I particularly love the sea-like sound their leaves make when they brush against each other on a windy night.
But what I love most is how they look out for each other.
Through an underground network, birch trees transfer carbon, nitrogen, and essential minerals to other damaged trees and trees that don't get enough sunlight. Without spoken logic or reason, they share their resources, defense signals, and hormones to plants in need, which in turn contributes to the survival and stress reduction of their neighbors. They seem to understand that a healthy forest is important for their mutual wellbeing.
There's a lesson here.
In light of all that's happening in our country, I sometimes wonder: what if we were birches? What would we do? Our mutual survival does not seem to be our focus. The hate is so strong that it seems to have a life of its own.
If I were a birch, first, I would open my ears to the hurt of my neighbors so I could better understand their pain. I'd want to empathize on a primal level. Then I'd share my own hurt. Then I would start a conversation about how we could help each other and find out what is needed.
And then I'd give them love.
Love to the protestors. Love to law enforcement. Love especially to those who can't release their hate. I would share facts and science and every resource I have and I would be open to what they have to offer, too, and then? I would love more.
Reader, these are hard times. It's difficult for me to go through my daily paces. But I can't help but try to find solutions. If even one of you is reading this tonight, I hope you'll join me in being a birch. We cannot help while we hate.
There's a Swedish proverb that says: "Shared joy is double joy. Shared sorrow is half sorrow." I love this thought. We aren't alone. We need each other. Let's try our best to choose understanding this week, and I'll see you next Monday. -Em
