May's Workshop Stories

Seasons of Life

The tiny sapling trembled in sorrow as the parent tree which gave him his existence was cut down by strange creatures. The same ones who weren't in any way connected to the soil and were jealous of all the beings who were allowed that special bond with mother nature. Something that the tool-wielding beings were never granted because of their destructive nature.

The bitterness was clear in the way in which those two-legged beings always cut or picked anything that had an everlasting bond with mother nature.

"Shh, don't cry, little one," the father tree whispered, extending his branches to gently connect with the youngling's smaller ones.

"But they killed my mother, for no good reason," the young one whispered in the breeze.

"No, my dear one. The odd ones just helped your maker transition, go to a better place," the wise old tree said.

"But why? Why couldn't mother stay with me, help me grow?" the sapling asked.

"Because her time in this forest has passed. There are other things for her to do, other places to visit," the old one said.

"I don't understand," the fledgling said.

"We are all born in the great forest. That is where we grow into strong trees. Where we are endowed with wisdom and power that the rare few can even imagine," the old one said, lowering his branches as if whispering a secret to the young one.

The youngling, on the other hand, extended his branches to better understand what was being said. The two connected in a bond that was as old as the world, the one of love and understanding.

"However, the older we grow, the more difficult it is for us to bear the wisdom of the ages. It becomes a huge weight on our branches that we can't shake off. That is when we know that it's time to change," the old one said.

"To change how?" the youngling asked.

"To go to the next stage of being, to the new adventure," he said.

"But why did mother have to go so quickly and suddenly?" the young one naively asked.

"Because, my dear, those are the lucky ones, rewarded for their good deeds. The ones who go away quickly and painlessly instead of suffering for a long time, withering away," the old one said.

As he said that, one of his yellowed leaves slowly drifted to the ground, even though it was the height of spring.

"So, my mother is not in pain?" The young one asked, brightening up.

"No, quite the opposite. Your maker is living many different lives in one, having amazing adventures and visiting worlds that we can't even begin to understand," he said.

"How is that possible?" the youngling asked.

"She will become a part of a greater story, of a life that grows so big in someone's mind that it has to flow into pages of a book. Only that way can it have enough freedom to develop and become even more magical than it was when first conceived," the old one said wistfully.

"But what does that have to do with mother?" the youngling asked, confused.

"Your mother will be the pages of that book, a part of that journey. She is in every forest, every being, and every event. She is all, and everything comes out of her the same way you did," the old one said.

"Is she okay? Is she happy?" the young one asked hesitantly.

"Yes, as happy as one can be. Whole worlds are hers to explore and live in," the old one said.

Those words seemed to quiet down the young sapling as he contemplated what he had learned. It was a knowledge that was too much for his young bark, but he did his best to absorb it.

"Can I join mother on her journeys?" he asked.

"No, my dear, not yet. Life is a journey that is done in different stages. You can't just skip winter and go to spring. You have to go through all the seasons of life," the wise one said as his branches creaked loudly. "Then, one day, you will reach that stage in your life. When that time comes, you'll be able to join your mother on the never-ending journey that is the afterlife."

The youngling lowered his branches in sadness, but he didn't ask why. Even a young tree knows that going against nature is something that should never be done. He was born with that respect, unlike those two-legged beasts that lacked any regard for mother nature.

As the two trees settled down into quiet contemplation, a young girl appeared with a book in her hands. She settled down among the roots of the big old tree and started reading her favorite book. She was joining in on the wondrous adventures with a smile permanently etched on her face.

"Keep reading, my dearest human. Each time you open a book and read it, a tree smiles knowing there's life after death," the old one whispered in the child's ear.

Of course, all the little girl heard was a gust of wind that carried her on its wings and into her newest adventure book. Together they went to the undiscovered islands and found hidden treasures. They won and lost battles but never forgot to enjoy every second of their lives.

It made the old tree think that maybe, just maybe, one day it would be allowed the honor to be a part of the very fabric of the book the girl was reading. That it would no longer be a silent observer of her adventures or just a passenger on the exciting journey. Because there is one thing that both humans and trees have in common.

Hope.