Oct 15

Oct 15 Climbing on Trees

There is something uniquely special about climbing in a tree. You're made to reach up to the sky—like the tree you're in—and ask for more.

When I'm up in a big tree, I feel free. Somewhat bird-like, yet not at all. I don't know how to explain it other than saying there's simply something inspiring about it. Freedom stems from a desire to be enthralled only with the things that matter, and being caught up in branches and leaves somehow helps unlock that.

I'm sure other things do, too, but I feel a certain permission to think about the deeper issues of life, to dream deeper and allow myself to be challenged to make a difference in the world. It's filling, enjoyable.

All this from trees? Yeah, that's right.

It's difficult to be worried about ostentatious schedules or rote responsibilities when you're high above the ground, resting on the branch—or in the groove—of some deciduous monster. You'll be hard-pressed to sink into the mental rigors of planning your schedule when your skin is pressed up against a coniferous giant.

These are peaceful.

I—like almost every child—began my ascension to tree climber at a very young age, but when I got older (high school and on) there was something about climbing trees that appeared to be immature. "Who climbs trees? Not me. Kids and squirrels, maybe."

I didn't truly adhere to this, but I still acceded to this prevalent perspective that I assumed was held by my peers. And thus, though I would take brief detours into trees occasionally, I largely curtailed that desire to climb up, higher and higher.

But a year or two ago, I started hopping up in trees more. I don't remember what the impetus was—but I do remember the results. I was reminded how good it was. How fun. How opening.

Now, I make ventures into trees more commonplace in my weekly activities. Never planned. Always appreciated. Time to think, meditate, and just be.

I'm not saying that everyone has to climb a tree to think clearly, because that's not true—and it's not always safe or easy. But I am saying, if you allow yourself the pleasure of scaling into the chlorophyll jungle of a live oak, or banyan, maple or magnolia—you won't be sorry.

In fact, I can almost guarantee you'll be glad.

Leaving inhibitions on the ground, you'll be free.