I love to walk among the willow trees along the Grand River near our home. There is something decidedly Ent-ish about these willows. Now I know this blog is about our journey on the Camino de Santiago, however, it is about a week before we leave so I am practicing two things before we leave: walking and blogging.
Back to the willows. The one in the photo has fascinated me for years. My photos don't do it justice so let me explain. The tree is completely broken off at about 12 feet and has been for probably many years. You can see one main horizontal branch remains and it has a secondary one stemming from it. I have used an online lumber calculator and "guesstimate" this branch weighs about 1500 pounds. In the same way a five pound weight is easy to hold in close to your body but really tough to hold with your arm extended out all the way, the eccentric load of this branch must create incredible strain at the point at which it joins the trunk. What my photos don't capture well is that the trunk of the tree, which was 3 feet in diameter is not only split in half, but the remaining half is almost entirely rotted away, leaving a thin 4 inch wall of living trunk around one half of the original circumference.
This Ent like tree reminds me of the words of Miracle Max in The Princess Bride, "it's mostly dead, which is partly alive", or of Greg Boyd's band called NDY, Not Dead Yet. As I walked past it today I noticed the one and only branch is full of buds and will soon be in full leaf. It is hard to believe it strong enough to stand let alone healthy enough to produce leaves for another summer. I love this tree. I have taken many very poor pictures of it, none of which capture its resilience, its odd and almost humorous shape, its stubborn refusal to give up even though the vast majority of it has long become organic soil.
Frankly, I'm not too sure why I am writing about this tree. Seeing it doesn't just amuse me, it moves me. Perhaps I think of it as s symbol for my life, or life generally. Along the way some beliefs fall off when we find they no longer serve us, plans may die and rot away due to changing circumstances, we might suffer some damage along the way inflicted by others or by having allowed our false self to control our narrative for far too long. And yet, there is life, there is resilience, there is growth and there is strength. I might even say there is beauty. Like the willow, which some might see as distorted and disfigured, but I see as special, as having earned its place. If I spoke Entish I suspect I would learn that this willow is wise and that its hollow trunk has provided refuge for many little critters and its one remaining branch is the favorite perch for many birds.
I know that tree. The kids and I pass it often when walking. It Fascinates us as well.
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