Trees, roots and balance

Drawing by Sofia Basso

I saw a drawing of a tree that had roots at both extremities. That image immediately launched a chain of thoughts in my head. It is amazing how thoughts come like they have a life on their own. It is a mystery who or what motivates them, they appear when and as they want, and don't always answer you when you call for them. I mention this because the impressions that I had about what I thought, putting now them into words (better yet, translating!), does no justice to the real thoughts that came to me.
 
I clearly remember that what really disturbed me in that drawing was not its extremities, but its middle part. Let me explain better... A tree has roots that thirstily extend in to the ground... seeking nutrition, food, water, and survival. In the other extremity, branches spread themselves, capturing light with their leaves and transforming it into energy. This light caught by the leaves, in addition to the nutrients absorbed by the roots in the subterranean darkness, complete each other and allows for life itself. Sometimes it is a green, strong, splendorous life. In other times, it is yellow and opaque. Sometimes it is leafless and with no appetite. In other ones, it is dry and rotten. 

Anyway, it is not about these trees - with roots, branches and leaves - in which each part has a specific and complementary role, with a natural and obvious balance, that I want to talk about. I want to talk about the tree in that drawing, that tree with roots in both extremities, up and down. For this tree there is only one will. Life, for this tree, is important but now the means to search for the desired life is always the same. There are no two complementary roles helping one another. The root must adapt itself to live up in the air, trying to do its best to accomplish what is not expected from it. It wants to survive even in the absence of the crown of the tree, with no branches or leaves. It wants to show that they are not needed, that the tree can trust on it to succeed alone, diving into the infinite in order to save itself and the whole tree at the same time. Now I feel I am able to start again the discussion I previously introduced. It was while I was flooded by these thoughts of roots that this question assaulted me: "what is in the middle?" "What is the balance of such a tree?” What would we find if there were equal extremities instead of two complementary ones? 
Before I could rearrange these thoughts together and seek even more for my own answers, I searched inside myself for the meaning of the word 'root'. For many people, root means immobility and even security. This idea that a root can mean an anchor that imprisons one to where it was seeded, thereby disabling movement, jumps and steps makes me think that this tree with roots in both extremities is a rebel. Its roots do not want to stay underground, silently and obediently playing its role. It wants to jump and fly into the air. It wants to see daylight. Would they be different roots with two different natures? Or the same root that just decided for another path, to play a different role, after years of dedication to its duties of searching for food and providing security? 

So, I can tell now what I have seen in the middle of that tree. Poetry! Yes, there is poetry in the balance that only the roots in both sides can provide. On one side, roots stretched looking for new challenges while in the other side, roots seeking for security. There is poetry in the form of wood. In this central column of wood I could observe the strength of that trunk. And in the middle of the trunk its crust worn out, traces left by a woodpecker and branches with birds and bees could be found. Let us call that point the present. The tree knows that everything below that point, the present, is the past, from the central point until the very end of the wealthy roots. That half of the tree is everything it already lived. This path already traversed cannot be taken from it. All the experience accumulated is now its wisdom, its way to survive. There are also some leftovers that are redirected to the other extremity, the adventurous root who wishes to unveil new horizons, new experiences, feeling the wind at its ends. The tree - and its trunk - knows that this is the real reason that justifies staying and waiting: finally gaining a reward, a possibility to advance in the right direction, fearless, when the moment comes. 

All of that was taught to me by the tree with roots in both extremities. There certainly may be beauty in extremes. In fact, there is neither balance nor equilibrium without them.

Originally published in portuguese here. Revised by Van Nishi and Jeff Sorley.