Tree 25 :: the treego ::

June 10th, 2010
Location: Cumberland Basin flyover, nr. Rose of Denmark pub, Bristol
Type: Birch / Poplar

My camera is beginning to smell like trees. I like it. So I took the plunge and started the process of sorting out a blog. Up Trees is its name, which if you are reading it will know by now. I’ve resisted it as should I get an audience puts pressure on ‘performing’ – producing something readable and entertaining and enlightening and…etc. Can I be a fountain of wisdom and joy and interest for every tree I climb – for a year. Hmmm. So it potentially ups the stakes – which could make it more interesting or more contrived. We shall see. And my ego doesn’t wish to be shrunk be embarrassing entries.

So – do trees have an ego? It sounds like a stupid question. The trees have been worrying about how they look, what other trees or beings think of them – whether it is status for a tree to have birds roosting in your branches, or the reverse like having an infestation of rats. Whether trees are ageist? Does the ego require free will? In which case – can a tree slowly choose which way to grow? How many leaves to shoot, when to seed? Or go to seed? Where is a trees brain?

Would you feel continually trapped being a tree, stuck? And the patience you’d need. Such a slow existence. Or would you be like a monk – perpetually mediating – experiencing nature all around, day in, day out, wind, rain, seasons, infestation, death, competition for light, drought, human intervention, losing branches or half your self to lightening, or gravity x weight x rot. Putting up with, and enjoying it all. Born with a total acceptance and appreciation of potential and slim likelihood of survival. I’m seeing a tree – in an overgrown wood / between two roads – a flyover or by the sea…etc. It stands there, rooted to the spot but it’s totally calm. It stands, it sits – its back straight up, its legs crossed under the soil, at the neck it’s head and arms are wild and reach upward together – exulting something. The twigs and branches press the leaves out in seasonal rhythm, with no complaints. That’s what I saw in my skull. The straight back / trunk silently pumping nourishment upward. And finally the gift of breath exhaling to feed the world through it’s green giving without questions. Or maybe they stand there feeling excruciatingly frustrated – longing to be chopped down and put out of their misery on a fire. Longing to tear up their roots and run with no hope of every achieving it. Suffering, wheezing, forcing the oxygen out through tiny blocked pores and gasping for more CO². Desperate and trapped…

I recon they  love it. They holds hands, play footsie under the ground with each other. Trees are saucy little creatures. Continually aroused by everything : ) See what getting a blog does to writing? Suddenly it comes round to sex… Do trees have sex? Via bees and birds? Does that count as bestiality? Hmmm…. lowering the tone.

One response to “Tree 25 :: the treego ::

  1. well I think your first blog writing or whatever we call it is very funny in places, touching , VERY imaginative
    and I say keep it up!!!!!!!

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