A Fool, a Wise Man and a Tree

I long to learn the things that are, and comprehend their nature, and know God. This is, I said, what I desire to hear. ~ Hermes Trismegistus (The Divine Pymander)

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I have always wondered how things have come to be. How did anything that exists come into existence?

Raised in a hyper Catholic home - going to parochial school, going to Mass every Sunday, on holy days, on the first Friday of each month, and many other occasions in between - I heard a lot of talk about not only God, but about creation, life, prayer, sin, death, confession, sacraments, heaven, hell, etc.

The concept of God taught by many religious institutions seems at odds with the doctrines they teach. For instance, I was taught that God is omniscient and omnipotent. Yet, many of these doctrines belie a God who is small-minded and so insecure that He becomes angry and displeased simply because someone might have the temerity to disagree with a doctrine, to think differently or to ask questions. I doubt the One Infinite Creator of All is anything like the being described in these doctrines. Instead, it is more likely that these are characteristics of those who assert such notions.

This is a problem, this mandating what one must believe. This is a problem, this circumscribing the parameters of acceptable thought. This is a problem with all religions, including the new religion called “science.” Going even further, one can readily see that this circumscription of acceptable thought is at work in attempts to censor or to deem what is or is not “acceptable speech.”

I, on the other hand, have a deepened appreciation and reverence for God - and for anything and everything - when I acknowledge that I cannot know or completely understand. To me, this seems a necessary condition for recognizing and treasuring the divine in all things.

For instance, this morning I sat on the back porch watching the sun rise. It rained last night, so the earth was damp. The grass, the few fallen leaves, and even the sparseIy scattered pine needles on the ground held tiny droplets of water. To think that slender needles hold droplets of water! They sparkled beneath the soft golden light of the rising sun.

I gazed up at one of the pine trees just a few feet from me. I considered that the tree stands there in its place during each night and each day. It’s there in the heat, in the rain, whether the temperature is pleasant or freezing or excessively hot. It grows new branches and produces pine needles and cones. It drops its needles and cones. It is alive.

We could determine the height of this pine tree. We could ascertain an approximate age. We could take measurements and make observations. We could identify it as a loblolly pine. We could list many facts about this tree. Doing these things could help us to become familiar with many of the characteristics of this tree. It’s possible that this information could help us to appreciate it. Sadly, this is often not the case. Once labelled and measured, many might feel satisfied that they know and understand this type of tree. They could move on, never having encountered or experienced even a hint of the essence of the tree.

We are unable to define exactly what this tree is or how it came to be. Can we know what it is like to be this tree? Can we know how or what it feels? What is reality for this tree? Can we know what it is able to perceive or understand? Certainly there are many things the tree must know that we don’t, or it wouldn’t be able to live, thrive, and grow in its environment. Most assuredly, we could not do so in the way that this tree does.

With these thoughts rustling through my mind, I arose from my seat and walked to the base of the tree. I placed my hands upon its rough beautiful bark of colors swirled within colors: browns and rusts and grays and blacks and creams. I felt its solid silence. I raised my gaze upward following the line of its trunk. Its texture was a masterpiece of ascending scales with occasional perfectly round holes where woodpeckers had performed their handiwork. All the time, this life is here, just outside our back door! This life!

What a wonder life is! What a mystery! Who can know it? From where does it come? How it is sustained? How did it come to be so cooperative? How is it held together?

While contemplating this pine tree, I thought of William Blake’s statement that, “A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.”* I wanted to see this tree like a wise man. I yearn to see creation and life and people and God, “like a wise man.”

Amidst such yearnings, I recalled that we are here, a population of humans, on the surface of a relatively small planet, whirling through space, in a solar system, within a small galaxy, in a universe, amongst countless universes. Who are we? What do we know? What can we possibly know?

Yes, I have had mystical experiences. I have experienced the “supernatural.” Yes, I have encountered the divine. Yet, one thing I know: I don’t know.

I know that, while I love learning and studying and thinking and creating, I am doing so from within an infinitesimally small portion of all that is. I will continue to learn, to study, to think, and to create. But, I’m comfortable with the mystery. No, I am more than comfortable with the mystery. I am enamored with and indebted to the beautiful mystery.

It is the mystery of life, the mystery of God, the mystery of all that is which draws me, humbles me, moves me, uplifts me, captivates me, and inspires me.

And, you? What inspires you?

Until next time,

K. M. Anderson

PhD, Metaphysics

PhD, Spiritual Counseling

Whisperia

*William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell