the perfect space

I am in love with oak trees. Maybe it's something to do with this stability of roots finding counterpart in a seemingly infinite expanse. They say an oak can live 200 years or more. Maybe it's the feeling that something of beauty in the natural world can, in a way, withstand the test of time.

The ancient Romans saw the oak tree as a symbol of strength and power. They believed oaks attracted lightening and thus were connected to Juno, god of the sky. In turn his wife, Jupiter, goddess of marriage, made the oak to be a symbol of commitment and fidelity. The Druids believed the oak had the power to renew and heal, while Socrates saw the oak tree as an oracle.

I think maybe Socrates had it right.

There is something so inherently divine and all knowing about this immense tree. Maybe it's the immensity... its ability to simultaneously inject one with excitement, hope, and fear. It's as if the grand oak holds onto the impressions of life... the children who've attempted to climb its thick branches, the seasons of autumn and winter which transformed color and stripped leaves, the lovers nestling under its shade on warm summer days.

It's something out of a Robert Frost poem.

Though I suppose Frost spoke of Birch trees, a symbol of new beginnings and vision quests. Perhaps the sister tree to the likes of an oak, more so the great grandfather, observer, quietly absorbing moments and memories and seasons of human kind worshiping beneath its hearty limbs and fallen acorns.

I am in love with oak trees. It's something about this vast expanse. This endurance. As if such a structure is meant to be honored. The oak is powerful. The oak affirms life in a way. And maybe it's my need to find stability and strength in my own life that compels me toward oaks. Maybe the universe is sending me in that direction very purposefully.

In John's Island, South Carolina there is an Angel Oak Tree... nearly 1500 years old. It's said to be one of the oldest living things east of the Mississippi. I officially want to see this tree before I die. Or rather, before it does. It's survived hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, and perhaps worst of all- humanity. What an incredible testament to the capacity of nature and living things. I don't know, I'm just so taken with these things...


.......
The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a
green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and
deformity, and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the
man of imagination, Nature is Imagination itself.
- William Blake, 1799, The Letters


.......
(
current soundtrack: Avett Brothers, The Perfect Space
currently reading: A Prayer for Owen Meany
currently...lost
)