On Aging: The Tree

On Aging

It is said that part of being wise is understanding the nature of birth, death, disease, and old age.  It's simple to see these as undesirable and make the decision to seek liberation from the wheel of birth and death. But even one who takes to the path of self-realisation early in life may find that life takes a long time. We're here longer than we expected. 



The Bengali Poet Govinda Dāsa compares life to a drop of water trembling on a lotus leaf. In a moment it rolls off the leaf and vanishes into the river of time. We devote endless amounts of energy to various enterprises and lose sight of the temporal aspect of our journey. The journey is over in the blink of an eye and we fail to see what's important.  But even truth seekers grow old.

Age is not much prized in our society. Old people are encouraged to listen to new music and stay young. Still, some things may only be learned through experience.

When the young Prince Siddhartha was only a boy, he was taken on a tour of his city. He was shocked when he saw an old person and demanded an explanation from his ministers.
A reflection written by a friend and posted on Facebook reminded me of the tale of Siddhartha before he became enlightened. I liked it so much I asked her permission to post it here. 

"The Tree"

by Madhu Mati D.D.

Oak Tree

Today a boy asked me at nap time " Are you old?"

 I said, "Yes I am. I am 50 years older than you."

 He said, "I thought so, you have more lines than my Dad but less then my grandmother. What is it like, being old?" 

I smiled and looked in his eyes.

 " It's like you're a apple tree standing in the wind with all the seasons on your branches,at the same time. 

Wisteria

Some parts have flowers blooming and they smell so sweet, other parts have apples hanging so low that they fall off the tree and somebody will make pie out of them other will stay on the ground and the seeds will spill out and grow new trees.

Apple Tree

 "Some parts are just leafing out and others places the wind is blowing them away.Some branches are bare and each line and crinkle in the wood tells the story of my life and I can read it and understand the story finally, And the wind blows through the tree and me and I am happy because I lived a good life and did all the things I wanted to do."

" I helped and was helped, had good love and tried to love and inspire people.


His eyes got big: " And will you die?" 

I smiled " Yes I will someday, the wind will come and knock me down because it will be my time to die.  

"And like the tree all my branches will fall , the leaves and flowers will fly and all will make new soil for the baby trees. 

"And then they'll grow old and read their stories and smile because they will understand why they were planted there and it will go on and on in the world." He smiled and closed his eyes and slept, Later we turned over the soil in the garden and added old hay and compost and he asked "and now will we plant trees?"

Growing old is strange. I never thought it would happen to me.  When I was a young man I remember listening to a song about "Old friends." How terribly strange to be 70.