Rooting for you: Pine

Pine has a single track mind.

Have you read that story by Roald Dahl, about the man who is rich, but bored. He meets a yogi who can see without his eyes, inspiring him to do the same. He starts training by staring at a candle flame while concentrating on someone he loves. He practices this endlessly for hours and days and years. Eventually he's able to hold the flame and the person he loves in his focus without any single intruding thought for 3 solid minutes.

This gains him the supernatural ability the yogi had promised.

There was a time in my life when I needed a single track mind: medical school. I trained exactly like that man did, until, like him, I gained the more natural ability to see with my mind.

During my training, I received an encouraging card with a drawing of the stump end of a tree, its long swirling roots, and at the bottom, the words:

Rooting for you

I love how language captures truth.

There I was sweating it out in eastern Canada while my parents, the card's senders, were out in the Pacific North West, where Pine likes to make itself known. They were rooting for me from afar.

Maybe, like trees, our faith is held in the invisible ways we are connected.

Pine sets its roots wide, across the entire northern hemisphere.

It feels like a simple tree. A single spire of a thing. It's not wracking its brain to twirl and branch and complicate life.

You have to be a little obsessed to pick a direction and run with it. All plants grow towards the light, but Pine just gets there fast.

Stay in your lane. That's what Pine is busy doing, and that's something we have in common.

But what happens when I reach my goal?

The story about the rich man doesn't end once he gains the ability to see without his eyes.

He starts to use his powers to gain obscene amounts of money playing cards. He quickly realizes his wealth is ultimately pointless because what set him free of his boredom wasn't money. It was process. It was also, the loved one whom he could actually focus on.

In the story, he donates all the cash to a charity of his choosing. He also then sees the invisible blood clot that slowly travels to his lungs and kills him.

The taller Pine grows, the more likely we are to chop it down for lumber or paper.

The better I became at writing tests and spewing facts, the less I felt like myself. "Getting there" lead me somewhere, but where was I?

Dear diary, what's the Pine lesson?

Almost there, thanks.

Pine is true to itself. It loves speed, stamina, directionality.

It will also never be Cedar, or Willow, or Cherry.

Comparison is the thief of joy.

Sure, but comparison reveals difference.

Every time I show people my art, they look surprised.

Like in their mind, I'm Pine. I can't possibly be artistic.

To be honest, I'd probably make the same judgement because art feels swirley and medicine mathematical.

The truth is...neither.

The rich methodical man had to hold a loved one in his heart for his fastidiousness to work.

The artist learns discipline to tame the madness of a world without circumference.

I wonder who Pine holds in its heart to grow so tall and fast and proud?

I wonder how it feels to be chopped down for being true to oneself.

I paint on paper.

Life is messy, and I can't make it all make sense. But I have some people on my side that I keep in my heart that are rooting for me. And perhaps, like Pine, that makes me feel big and safe and wild.

Thanks for being here

Izzy <3