A World of Answered Questions

By the side of the path to my house is a tree that took root overnight. I woke one morning to find it standing in the soft glow of early dawn. I instantly knew it had always been there and in this knowing, I felt distances collapse.

Is knowing more true than sight? Are my eyes slow to see what is already here? Perhaps my eyes sleep while great surges of energies quietly create molecules for time and space to show. What precious invisible impulses bring this world to visibility?

The tree is real for I have climbed it. I sit on its branch and I feel the roughness of bark touch my skin and leave a mark. I breathe its buds of fragrance in Spring and taste its fruit in Summer.

Why did the tree come? Who is this creature of such stillness that shares my world with me? Who is a Tree? I ask this cautiously because I am almost afraid to be answered. I live in a world where deep questions are not asked and true answers not believed in. I’ve come to feel silly myself in asking them. Still, the person I am wonders about a lot of things thought not important. I sense my happiness and my sanity depend on keeping my wonderment alive.

Gathered in my pockets are the questions of all my hopes and dreams. I know that life is not mysterious. The mystery is that I prefer to stand in darkness never reaching in my pockets for the treasure of questions waiting there. The answer comes as a question, after all. I exist to ask wonderful questions about trees and many other things.

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