The Resilience of Trees

I spend a lot of time watching trees. I love trees. I think they are some of the most beautiful creatures. In Africa where the savanna is hot and dry, the trees grow tall, bare all the way up to the wide ceilings that have survived the constant grazing of giraffes. In my backyard where my red maple rustles with each whisper of wind, I love to watch the leaves dancing in shadow and sunlight. In Jamaica, I was drawn to the coconut tree, the long line of its trunk bent by the constant island breezes, curving up to an afro of fronds.

Whether sturdy with deep roots and broad branches, or slender and willowy, perhaps the thing I admire most about trees is their resilience.

A few years ago we had an ice storm that was so fierce it locked my Internet receiver in a block of ice thick enough to keep me disconnected for a week. The maple tree in my backyard was encased in inches of ice, which bent its branches almost to meet the snow on the ground. I wondered how it would fare come spring. How many branches would give under the weight of all that ice?

When the ice started to melt, the ground below the tree was strewn with chunks of glassy ice. The limbs remained bent. But come spring, the tree took a deep breath and slowly straightened up. Wow! Such resilience.

We all could take a lesson from the resilience of trees.

We all have times in our lives when we are bent under the pressure of what we face. It is our ability to take a deep breath and slowly straighten up that keeps us in the game.  Some of us are better at it. Psychologists say that when you face difficulties early in life, you strengthen your resilience; having it too easy for too long leaves this muscle weak. In Jamaica I grew up hearing, “What don’ kill yu mek yu stronger.”

Maybe that’s how I came to know with certainty that whatever adversity I was facing just had to be waited out. I watched as the strong winds of the almost-hurricane that came each season was no match for the resilience of trees.

Instead of seeing whatever challenge you face as insurmountable, it is better to think of it as the thing that will make you stronger. It will. And each time it does, you are better prepared for the next time adversity bends you to the point of almost breaking. You know to take a deep breath and slowly straighten up.

One of the very best lessons I learned about resilience is that regardless of what is happening that is stressing me out, if I can focus — even for short periods — on what is good in my life, I’m better equipped to handle the crap. I’ve met people who are so focused on what is missing that they can’t even remember that they are blessed with food to eat and clean water. They are so mired in misery from the person who has left them that they can’t seem to see that they are surrounded by people who love them.

I’ve also learned that you just never know where your next updraft will come from. If I don’t close myself off to new ways of being, solutions present themselves. If I’m brave enough to say “yes,” that will open doors I hadn’t even been aware of.

There is a solution to almost every problem we face. Sometimes we must be patient, giving the solution time to arrive. Sometimes we must be willing, accepting solutions we may not have considered previously. Most times we must tap all the resources at our fingertips — our friends, our spirituality, our talents — to see our way past today to the promise of tomorrow.

I am resilient. And I thank the trees for their beautiful lesson.