If the tree trunk were a clock, your human day would be the circumambulation of daylight waking and night time slumber
If you’re patient, it could be the circumambulation of a waxing moon and a dark fortnight
If you’re still willing to watch, it could be the circumambulation of a summer solstice and an autumn one
If you’ve stayed so long, perhaps, you could see the circumambulation of your entire life, an offering?
To see further, you have to be the tree
the lines of your life merging into its rings,
no longer an exchange
of an inhale and an exhale
just one breath, each an eternity
The day gets slotted into hour long blocks on a calendar, a quick drag and drop of exchanges blocking time between people on a screen.
Sometimes, the blocks get rearranged and I snatch an hour from work to soak in the green. So walks don’t fall into fixed timings and I get to see life around me at different hours.
This morning, I stood in a lush green space, under giant trees listening to parakeets and hornbills, kites and babblers. Watching the orchids grow around this tree trunk, it made me think of a dial. We live our days around a clock, marking time and wondered how might time be perceived from the lens of a tree’s being?
And so these words spilled, a tree’s whisperings.