A few years ago, we planted two trees: a European Purple Beech tree and a Dawn Redwood. Both have thrived. Each year, I notice how slowly the European Purple Beech releases its leaves. It’s as though it’s defiant of the natural process of autumn. The leaves fade, curl, and dry up but are held in place at the stem.
The picture below shows its present state deep into December. Nearby birch, beech, and maple have long ago shed their leaves. These withered, deep copper leaves hold tight through autumn winds and early snowfalls.
My friend and arborist Samuel Mohnkern tells me the term is marcescent. It’s said of leaves that wither but remain attached to the stem—a trait of these particular beeches.
When we behold a person who seems slow to let go or see it in ourselves, do we label it stubbornness when it’s more a process that’s merely true to them?
The surrounding trees might see this beech as silly, stubborn, and unaligned with trends and traditions. I don’t suspect it’s self-conscious. But I would be. My sense of my worth can become informed by my likeness to others, my growth compared to others, and even my seasonal habits.
Here's a picture of the Dawn Redwood at the other end of the tree spectrum. It’s an eastern redwood tree able to thrive on this side of the country, quite apart from its cousins on the foggy west coast. It grows about a third of the size of western redwoods.
You’ll notice in the picture it has entirely shed its needles. We planted it, and I’d assumed it to be an evergreen. But when the needles fell that first year, I thought I killed it. But no, that’s its process as a “not exactly” evergreen tree (deciduous conifer).
It got me wondering if this exiled redwood decided to mimic its deciduous neighbors here in the east. After all, it takes tremendous energy and courage to stand tall and be oneself.
You are not your progress
You are not your progress or lack thereof. You are not the from-here-to-there mental montage you may be playing in your head. Our self-disdain for where we are, or how we present next to others, may seem like healthy motivation, but it isn’t. As Gregory Boyle says: “It works but doesn’t help”. It is founded on the idea that we have ultimate control over results or that our results are only actual if they match others, surpass others, or fall in line.
New year, same you
As the calendar flips and we plan what 2024 will look like, our routine may need to get healthier. We may begin the year from a place of self-disdain. A sort of “I didn’t do it last year, but I will this year.” Or we may look left and right and decide that since we’re not where others are, we must dislike ourselves more to catch up. Even if this is the only fuel you have ever run on, I invite you to consider our trees. A “consider the lilies” update, perhaps.
Consider the two trees
Consider these two trees; they don’t toil or spin to arrive at perpetual progress as the observing world might define it. And yet they thrive, they grow, they are beautiful.
We live in a time when there’s disregard for the seasons. We feel success is working as if the seasons do not affect us. Produce at your grocer doesn’t respect it. Do we think apples and oranges are perpetually in season? Our habit of trying to charge out the gate in January doesn’t observe the reality of the natural slowness in the season of winter. We say to it all: No, we will set the pace! But do we?
Set an intention and hold lightly to expectations. Release the idea that you or anyone fully controls results. And finally, realize our outcomes may not mirror expectations or definitions of ‘success.’ Yet, we still grow. And that growth can be hampered by hating how we uniquely grow.
Be well, Feral Souls.