A man was travelling through the desert, hungry, thirsty, and tired, when he came upon a tree bearing luscious fruit and affording plenty of shade, underneath which ran a spring of water...
Some folks think of people much as we think of cars on a highway: each with its own origin and destination, relating to one other only to negotiate lane changes and left-hand turns. But people are not cars.
Did I grow towards the sun, reaching up higher and higher towards that which I can never grasp, but which nurtures me all the same the more I strive towards it?
There is a story in the Talmud of an old guy who was seen planting a fig tree. The people who observed him asked, "Do you really expect to live long enough to consume the fruits of your labor?"
Seven areas of our lives represented by the "Seven Kinds": our humanity (wheat), passion (barley), joy (grapes), intimacy (figs), action (pomegranates), struggle (olives) and tranquility (dates)
For what is man/ But a frame/ Of living wood/ With a bark of flesh/ Whose spent years/ Are carefully recorded/ In the rings of his soul/ To be counted and measured/ When his tree is felled--?
There is something very grounding about trees. They are solid, stationary and easy to hug. And, with roots knotted firmly in the soil and a dense net of branches that dance at its head, a tree can help anchor a lost and disoriented person . . .
It’s tougher now; I have far greater responsibilities and less time for fun. I’ve been shaped, molded, and somewhat scarred by my experiences, and it is much, much harder to change.
The black and white pictures I have of them stare back at me asking me not to forget. Keep these pictures precious. This is my face, this is my family, and this is who you come from. We may have physically left the earth but your heritage is part of us. We are your roots...
Family life is a piece of art in of itself. It’s all about taking people, placing them on the same canvas, and making them interact in a way that creates a beautiful combination of personalities. It’s a display of the depth of life, giving a higher meaning and purpose to our existence . . .
Only later did I notice that one tiny tree had been planted so close to the playground’s fence that its narrow branches had become entangled in the mesh. Would it ever grow to independent maturity like the other trees?
I want to teach my child that when we make a mistake, not only is that okay, but we should also take responsibility for the mistake. Otherwise, how will a person ever grow and change?