A tree is an incomprehensible mystery

"A tree is an incomprehensible mystery." - Jim Woodring My Random thoughts in study class: Trees are anything but perfect. Anything but the symmetrical beauty humanity strives for. Humans seek the regularity of similarity, whereas trees are void of any standard semblance. Trees are what they are. A bona fide structure that stands tall amongst the brutalist of wars; a shelter; a monument of history amongst the ages. Oh if trees could talk! Imagine the stories, fantasize the past that would be unveiled, wonder at the caricatures captured in the very trunk of a tree. So many years of silent watching; the continuance of a complete selflessness at its utter best, and in a tree. What is humanity to that? The selfish fiend, the separated colleague on earth, the addicted lover? As I draw I see not only the form, shade, texture, line and colour of a tree, but the story in every branch not there, the weight  of the world reigning the tree into his shape, the perfection in his marred and disfigured body.  If only we would pause to draw humans as I draw the tree. What awareness of each other, what utter respect and awe would we have of each others stories?  We are more than what we look like. More than what we appear. It goes deeper than the surface and further than the skin we are stuck in. Look further than the facade each person holds in front, peek past the masks and seek the truth we refuse to show. The story- the real story