I once dreamed I was a tree. It was the most peaceful dream I have ever had. So much so that went I woke up I went back to sleep to continue being a tree for a while. Yesterday while sitting on my back porch enamored watching the breeze rustle a near-by oak, I thought how nice it is to be in a hammock underneath. For a few moments in time you are at peace, gently flowing with the breeze, and for a bit you can become one with the tree, if you ask nicely. Imagine what that existence must be like. You are born a seed, all of the information you need packed away in a tiny DNA package. You may be carried by a squirrel or blown by a breeze until you find a comfy home nestled into the ground. Of course none of this is conscious, you just ARE until you are more. When you do get settled, somehow as a little seed you know what to do. Your only needs are dirt, sun, and water - and not to be destroyed. Such a passive yet beautiful existence.
As a life form that needs to destroy and devour other living things to survive it gives me even more respect for my journey as a human. We are borrowing so much from the already efficient Earth just to be here. We take her land, her plants, her animals. We carve out space and claim it as our own. We dig up her innards to drive our cars, which pollute the air. We destroy the forests that cleanse the air for us. We hurt each other. Greed driven by a fear that we won't be taken care of.
Looking at the life of a plant just makes me wonder how we've gone so wrong. At what point did man start to believe they deserved more of the earth than the rest of life. When did we start fighting each other for bountiful resources and stop hearing the trees, the animals, the water and the rocks. As an American I am particularly baffled as I also have Native American Heritage. I find myself identifying with what I understand about their culture. We were taught in History class that everything was black and white, we were the heroes, they were the enemies. Taught to us again and again through lingering stereotypes of misunderstanding. Upon examining and making my own assessments as a adult, I tend to believe we really got it wrong. Watching Pocahontas as a child felt like just a fairy tale. Look at these imaginary people who think they can he