I guess that makes me a killer?

A year ago I found myself wandering aimlessly on Main Street in Catskill, New York. It was a trip with some upstate friends I hadn’t seen in quite a while and we spent the day reconnecting in this village on the Hudson River. Main Street is home to a collection of funky little shops and restaurants, and it was in one of these funky little shops where I first saw her. I turned my head and there she was. 

A bonsai tree.

I know nothing about bonsai trees, but this one just called me to it. I was immediately struck by its asymmetrical shape, sort of like an inverted Nike logo, as if its branches were silently flowing in the breeze. For just $35 I could take her home. In that moment I became a bonsai tree owner, envisioning myself as some sort of Zen master meticulously and intentionally caring for this little tree.

My Zen master vision not withstanding, a year later the vibrant and green bonsai tree I brought home with me is now brittle and brown. There is no life left in its branches and bark.

I thought I new how to take care of plants. How hard could it be? Water and sunshine, repeating as necessary. Apparently the needs of this bonsai tree were different than I assumed them to be. My indifference to its specific needs resulted in the demise of this beautiful tree.

I never made much effort to learn how to properly care for a bonsai tree. I didn’t think I needed to. I never asked specifically what I would need to do to keep this little tree vibrant and lush. Instead of seeking to  understand what was needed from me in this relationship, I simply applied my assumptions as to what it would take to position this tree to thrive and grow. 

My assumptions were wrong, and the bonsai is dead. 

Had I bothered to do just a little bit of investigating as to what I would need to do to properly feed and care for this tree, the tree would still be alive.  Continue reading “Learning How To Love Each Other” →