Lessons from Yonder

There is something about the sight of a leafless tree that communicates a deep sense of courage and resilience. In the midst of so much green and yellow and red, the greyish brown frame of this loner sometimes becomes a mighty statement. Against the bluish vastness of the sky beyond, the skimpy skeleton of those branches proclaim so much of beauty. 

It was in O. Henry’s The Last Leaf (the very first English short story that I happened to come across in childhood) that I first received a glimpse of this beauty. I remember picturising that last one painted leaf clinging on to the branch, and giving life to a lost hope. Looking back, I can recall a fascination with drawing leafless tress in my early teenage years. Falling leaves have always been a hearty scene I’ve lost myself in, once even taking up close to 15 minutes of my university exam.

But what really is it that draws me to that naked structure so strongly? 

The nakedness itself is one striking feature; a bold statement that you have nothing to hide from anyone. Sans the protection of the foliage, you reveal to the world, all your ridges, bumps, curves, wounds… without fear of judgment or ridicule. There is an open challenge to the wind and rain to try attacking; a firm belief in own strength and beauty that doesn’t seek outside approval. 

Then there is the beauty of letting go. Those bare branches are testimony to a pure love that doesn’t insist on the leaves to hold on and stay back. It takes so much courage to let go of those, who sprouted out of those very same branches, without complaints or regrets. If only one watches long enough, the goodbye in itself is a sight to behold. Some leave abruptly, some stay on for adieu, some are too reluctant to leave that they stay on as long as they can. But you let them all go with the same love and patience, no difference between the ones that loved less and more; making sure that each leaf has a smooth journey down along those intertwining branches. 

And then, there is the potential of a lovely surprise you hold within. This ghost of a tree, seemingly dry and impotent, after the first tiny showers, put forth little green buds that cover those thirsty branches too quickly. Those companions whom you let go, to conserve the spring of life within you, left a part of them within your soul, to let you enjoy another spring!