The Parable of the Two Trees
by William D. Esteb
Once upon a time there were two trees standing tall and proud in the midst of a beautiful meadow. The tallest tree was a perfectly proportioned fir tree. It's long needles were a mix of deep greens. Its bark was rough, providing easy footing for the birds, squirrels, and other forest animals it sheltered.
The other tree was a stunning maple tree with huge leaves that screamed technicolor sunsets in the fall. Its bark was smooth and its branches reached straight out in fingers that poked at the sky. The strong trunk and branches bent easily in the wind as its leaves fluttered like feathers.
One summer day as both trees stood surveying the green carpeted meadow below they struck up a conversation. To have two trees talking, well, that was pretty unusual. But in this case their conversation was even more incredible because of the almost 100 years of silence that they had stood side by side without speaking.
"Kind of a rough winter this time," observed the fir tree speaking first.
"I hadn't noticed," said the maple, "it's always difficult when one loses all of one's leaves. I don't have the insurance of a thick green coat of needles like you do."
"Yeah, I help a lot of forest animals because of the protection my branches offer," said the fir tree proudly. "Why I had two owls and several squirrels this year."
"That's nice, but the maple syrup I provided was on the breakfast tables of several human families," proclaimed the maple straightening up and standing a bit more erectly.
"There you go again with your 'I'm-better-than-you' attitude!" shouted the fir. "How can a tree that loses it leaves and stands there naked each winter exposed to the elements be considered superior to a noble fir tree?"
After this outburst both trees fell silent, thinking about the conversation and why each thought the other was inferior. While each was in deep thought the weather changed. A looming thundercloud filled the summer sky and burst above them releasing big drops of water, which quickly turned to hail.
When the sky stopped falling both trees stood in a quarry of cold white gravel. The melting ice dropped from the boughs of the fir tree. Next to the fir tree, with its leaves shredded below it like taco lettuce in sour cream, stood the nude maple.
Again, the fir was the first to break the silence.
"That was quite a storm."
"I've experienced worse," sniffed the maple.
"What are you going to do?" asked the fir who was now feeling a little guilty for having better weathered the storm.
"The same thing I always do," snapped the maple with greater resolve. I've already started growing new leaves."
"Why don't you just grow needles like I do?" volunteered the fir trying to help.
"Are you kidding? I don't believe in needles. Needles are for trees that take the easy way out. Oh, I could grow needles if I wanted to, but I think it distracts from the real purpose of being a tree," proclaimed the maple bluntly.
"What do you mean?" asked the fir tree trying to understand. "Everyone expects needles. If I didn't have needles I couldn't help the birds and all the animals that seek shelter from me. Without my needles I'd disappoint them."
"That's only because you've never experienced what it feels like to see your seeds helicopter to the far corners of the meadow," glowed the maple.
The fir paused to collect his thoughts.
"But just look at you!" laughed the fir. "What good are you now without your leaves?"
"Ah, but I trust in my potential to grow more leaves," smiled the maple with assurance.
The fir tree thought about that for a moment. He'd never lost all his needles before and really wasn't convinced they'd grow back if he somehow lost them. In fact, he'd never given much thought to his needles or why someone would prefer the more difficult decision to grow leaves.
The fir tree's musings were interrupted by a large owl that landed in one of his upper branches.
"We all couldn't help but notice the two of you arguing," said the owl speaking to no one in particular, but loud enough for both trees to hear. "What's the problem?"
"I was just explaining the virtues of leaves and the inborn potential to grow new ones," answered the maple.
"And I was just explaining why it's easier to grow needles," said the fir.
"Why not have both leaves and needles," suggested the owl trying to make peace.
"That's a good idea," said the fir tree brightening at the obvious solution.
"Impossible!" cried the maple. "You'd lose all sense of 'tree-ness' if you did that."
Unperturbed the owl ventured into even deeper water. "Why not outlaw one or the other? Pass a law or make it especially difficult for the weaker or less correct tree to survive."
There. It was out in the open. Both trees went deep into thought after the owl had verbalized the unmentionable. It was this central issue of "rightness" that had started the stand off so many years earlier. Each could see the other's contribution to the ecological balance of the meadow, but neither was willing to confront the either/or position advanced by the owl. They rather liked the competition and the passion generated by their differences. They realized that too much of their outlook on life as a tree was defined by the desire to show off their own "purity" or "open-mindedness." Regardless of who became king of the forest, they both sensed that something would be missing without the diversity represented by the other.
By now the sun had set and the meadow was dark and quiet except for a few birds settling down to rest for the night. Not even the moon shined through the remaining overcast skies above.
"Are you asleep yet?" whispered the fir tree.
"No, are you?" answered the maple.
"I've been thinking," volunteered the fir, "about what the owl said earlier. I think you're a great tree. I guess I've always been kind of envious. You always seem to have the passion and the commitment I wish I had."
After a short pause the maple responded, "Thanks. I guess I've always been jealous of your success in attracting and helping all the forest animals. You always seem so easy going and don't see things as black or white."
"I wish I could experience the simplicity and focus of having leaves," confessed the fir.
"I wonder what it's like to have a green coat all year long," said the maple rather dreamily.
The two trees started talking. All through the dark night they talked and talked. Though they couldn't see each other, they gained strength from their new understanding of each other. They talked of their common enemies, forest fires, early freezes, hungry wintertime deer, and invading insects. By morning the conversation got quite lively as they shared their fears, their dreams of the future, and the collected wisdom of being a tree for almost a hundred years. The more they talked the more they realized how much they had in common. They discovered how superficial leaves and needles really are.
* * *
The struggle over win/lose, either/or, right/wrong, and we/them has distracted too many for too long. Bigotry in any form divides, and prepares the soil for conquest. Those who cannot tolerate others are revealing a mistrust of their own beliefs. That fragile commodity called "intelligence" that chiropractors deal with is measured by its ability to adapt. Adapting is not to be confused with compromise. To adapt one moves forward in spite of the obstacle. Adapting honors the barrier or challenge and continues forward with a new homeostatic balance. Adaptation is fundamentally win/win.
To compromise one gives up or sells out to create a muddy gray area which pleases no one. A compromise tends to weaken the strong in the hopes of bolstering the weak. It never works. A compromise is almost always lose/lose.
Maybe if the conversation alfresco had taken place years earlier the bulldozers that leveled both trees in the meadow for a new regional medical center could have been avoided. Maybe the subject of trees would have been more widely taught in public schools. Maybe the trees wouldn't be such easy targets for media pundits. Maybe trees would garner the respect they deserve. Maybe.
Buy the book
My Report of Findings
Originally published in 1993
240 Pages
US $24.95
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