A Tree
There’s a tree in my yard. A big, sturdy fellow - looks like a Black Oak or a Pin Oak.
I rely on this guy for evening shade and a breaking of the breeze, so I’m quite fond of him. His brother already fell over and died a few years ago, and both of us were pretty torn up about it.
I live in Ohio, so obviously this tree has seen its fair share of ridiculous weather. Wind and rain storms, frost, sudden swings in temperature and humidity, and maybe even tornadoes. This tree has been through the wringer. And its body makes that evident.
Some of the higher branches of my oak tree have broken, died, and otherwise collapsed onto some of the lower, sturdier branches. Especially since this past autumn and winter offered us some pretty serious wind storms. And now the dead weight of these decomposing branches hangs over top of the stronger branches. The segments underneath all this dead matter are not as full and healthy as those all-too-fortunate outer sections, where the leaves get to bask in the sun.
I want to go out there and clean off all the done-for branches. To help this tree get back into prime shape and continue flourishing and getting sturdier. But I have no ladder tall enough. And the work would be quite dangerous for me anyway. In trying to help this tree, I would be putting myself in peril.
A Woman
A woman I used to know is struggling to put herself together. She is sad. She is angry. At herself, at the world, at her parents, at her ex-boyfriend - I don’t know. And I gave up trying to figure it out.
She takes out her troubles on those around her. She makes a victim of the people she’s supposed to love because she herself feels like a victim. And she can’t help it. She’s busted up inside, even though she’s a wonderful person. Happens to the best of us.
She has dead branches hanging over the parts of her that are supposed to be growing. Parts of her, enormous parts of her, are in the dark and being kept there. By stubbornness, by insecurity, by fear… who knows. I have my suspicions, but she doesn’t want to hear about my suspicions. Or anyone else’s.
What I want is to tell her what I see. What I want is to help. To show her how I think she might begin the process of dropping this dead weight and moving forward. Fixing the parts of her that obviously are not getting her good results. Fixing the parts of her that she obviously doesn’t love. But alas, it’s not time yet. I cannot tell her when it’s time to grow. Nature has to take its course on her, and she will be ready eventually. I hope.
It’s not up to me to decide, as badly as my compassion (and my ego) want it to be. And, as with our friend the oak, trying to help her anymore at this point will only put me in harm’s way. So I have stepped aside.
A Man
Somebody who has been in my life a long time is struggling with addiction and alcoholism. And self-pity, and impostor syndrome, and identity issues, and self-confidence, and probably some sexual issues, and just about everything else a person can struggle with, but hey, it’s not my job to take his inventory, right? So I won’t.
Or maybe I will, because I can’t help it.
I have been doing this a long time. I know what addiction looks like, and I know what recovery looks like.
And when I look at this man, this dude that I am such a fan of, I see un-recovery. I see a juvenile mindset, and an unwillingness to give up old friends and attitudes, and an unwillingness to live a life that is mature and forward-looking. I see a person who makes a joke out of literally everything. And I want to tell him, every time I think of him, that these are the things he should be working on. Because they are essential to his recovery and his growth. These are the branches that are in his way. This is the dead weight that people of all shapes and sizes must cut in order to stay sober and live a better life.
I don’t make the rules, but I can sure as hell put them into words and tell you what they are.
And I have, once in a while, made these proclamations to him. Told him with the conviction of a church elder what he is missing and what he must open his eyes to. He must. He has no choice. His life depends upon it. He needs to see what I’m saying. Because he needs to stay sober, so he doesn’t die or go to prison.
But sadly, “need” doth butter no parsnips. Even that isn’t enough to make his dead weight fall off. And again, as with our oak and our dear lady friend, I must stay away lest I hurt myself trying to help. Or lest he hurt me. He’s a bit more athletic than I.
And So We Wait
So what can I do?
Nothing.
It pains me to look at a tree, or a friend, or a parent, or a brother, or just a random person I read about or meet at a coffee shop, and see dead weight. These people I see are literally suffocating under the weight of their own dead parts. They are struggling to grow past the weight of parts of them that no longer work.
And yet there’s nothing I can do about it. All I can do is watch. I can be honest if they ask for my opinion, and love them from whatever distance seems safest and most fair for both of us. I’ll be here if they need me - until then, my opinion and my “help” go unused.
I heard a wonderful analogy one time.
You know those forest fires, right? Those things that happen during particularly dry seasons, because of a lightning strike, or a pile of overheating dead biomass, or a teenager from a bad home with a match.
Those forest fires are a required part of the life cycle of a forest. They burn off the dead wood and leave behind only what is essential for growth. And so maybe triggering one by accident isn’t the worst thing in the world - although it’s obviously not a thing you should go out and do recreationally.
But what might be the worst thing in the world, is artificially keeping forest fires from happening. Because you are standing directly in the way of a natural and essential part of life. You are keeping the forest from burning off its dead parts and flourishing anew.
And what happens if you artificially protect the forest from harm for long enough?
Eventually a fire does start, as it inevitably must, and it burns so hot that it permanently destroys the topsoil. In trying to protect the forest for too long, you actually cause it to become damaged so badly that it’ll never flourish again - or at least not for a long, long time. In trying to crusade for painlessness, you actually doomed it to more pain that it ever would have experienced naturally.
And so I believe it is with humans. I try to instigate and spur growth and self-awareness so that the people whom I adore so fondly don’t have to go on drying out forever. I want to see people have small fires so that they don’t have to have big fires. I want to see people change constantly, willingly. So that they don’t have a life-shattering event one day that absolutely flattens them.
Because that would be sad. And I know how hard it is to move on after an event like that.
It’s possible that the people I mentioned above might read this post. And if so, they might hate me for what I’ve said. For having opinions about them and sharing them publicly to advance my own writing career. But I don’t care. I’m telling the truth, because telling the truth matters. Using stories from my own life to help others is too valuable to ignore.
I’m going through a period of dead-weight-burning right now. My life has taken a few turns for which I wasn’t prepared. And I’m feeling the pain of losing parts of myself which I thought were important but which maybe aren’t that important.
I’m feeling the pain of growth.
But that’s okay. I can handle it. I can get more in touch with the parts of me that really do matter, and I can move forward a better man. A little less square a man in an ever more round world.
Drink some water and burn a bit,
JDR
“People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls.” - Carl Jung