Photo by Jeswin Thomas
I’m not usually one to write sad posts. So if you prefer not to cry sad tears today, feel free to stop reading. No offense taken. My desire is to add some depth and poignancy to offset the sadness, so we can all be touched deeply in some way by reading it… taking the sadness in and ingesting it, seeing the beauty of life, the grace, the divine…
Every year after Christmas, I cry over the millions (billions?) of trees killed for the sole purpose of adorning living rooms during Christmas. When I lived in the city, I used to see them laid out on the curb, house after house after house, stripped of their lights, ornaments and…. well, LIFE.
This makes me sad.
In full disclosure, this year, our family bought one of these trees… a cut tree… for Christmas. We usually buy potted, living trees and replant them on our property. We’ve been doing this for years, but this year, for some reason, my man decided to get a cut tree. So I made the best of it.
But I’m still sad for the beauty of the life that will soon be gone, simply for our pleasure.
I know that in the grand scheme of things, all is well. The life of the tree still lives on, and the tree (like our human bodies) is merely a vessel through which the divine life flows. Long after the vessel, the tree and our human body is gone, the life that once flowed through it all, still flows.
But I’m still sad for the tree.
As I watch it dry up and next week, as we strip it of its ornaments and lights, we will mulch it up and put it in our rose garden, so the life can flow through our roses for years to come.
I wrote today’s post, a poem of sorts, in ode to our tree, and to Christmas trees everywhere…. and funny enough… it sounds awfully familiar to the feelings I once had in past relationships as I felt tossed to the curb!
Hmmm….imagine that. Art resembling life.
Go figure. 😉
Sadness is often a gateway to deeper riches inside you. Don’t shy away from it, embrace it… and allow yourself to be touched.
ODE TO A CHRISTMAS TREE
I remember the day we met.
You looked at me, eyes gleaming with hope and promise.
You took me to your home, eager to find a central space within it for me.
You couldn’t wait for me to meet your family, they too would love me, you thought.
You adorned me with jewels, carefully picking out just the right sparkle to help me shine.
You turned me on every night and gazed up and down, admiring my beauty.
You took deep breaths, inhaling me and commented on how you love my natural smell.
You filled me with love, attention and admiration.
You gave me your all.
And I gave you mine.
And then, the day came when it was over.
You stripped me of the jewels you so lovingly, meticulously placed on me.
You turned your gaze away, no longer lingering on me, not even for a moment.
You stopped breathing me in.
I became a pain. A big mess. Something you now must get rid of.
But what you don’t know (or care to admit) is…
I was born for you.
I was raised to make you happy, to bring beauty, cheer and joy into your heart and home.
This, I did for you.
Because I had no choice. Because that’s my purpose. Because that’s why I exist.
And I did it happily and proudly. I served you when you needed me most.
But now the time has come. You’ve moved on.
I’m no longer needed.
You’re casting me out. Tossing me on the curb. I’m old and dried up now. Our moment’s gone.
Stripped of my jewels and your love, I’ll die slowly on the curb. Alone.
As I lie helpless on my side, I look down the street and see other throw-aways like me, once beloved and now dumped on the curb, too.
Our purpose fulfilled.
Until someone else comes to take us away.
They’ll have a new purpose for us. They’ll cut us up, break us to pieces, turn us to mulch.
Only, we’re already broken. You just can’t see deep enough to notice.
And you’ll go back into your home, close your front door, feel good that you did your part in the circle of life.
And I’ll do my part.
Because I have no choice. Because that’s what they created me to do.
Your Christmas Tree