Someone's sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago. ~ Warren Buffett
I wrote this in September, but it seems just as timely. Enjoy.
I've just returned from paradise. There is something particularly healing and awakening that comes from traveling to somewhere so old. I had the pleasure of going to the El Yunque Rainforest. After driving past a very small sign, and ending up in a village where several men passes phrases between each other to get my daughter and I back on track, we entered the rainforest to see very old trees and ferns. We saw bamboo so old, the trunks looked like the strong and beautiful thighs of healthy women lifting up the leafy canopy to the sky.
Those trees speak to those who would listen. They tell stories of many generations of free people and oppressed ones. I was enjoying shade from trees that I didn't plant. Instead of simply taking pictures of flowers and tall structures that seemed built instead of grown, I honored them. I honored what the trees have seen, what storms they have endured, and that they give to us even though we, the tourists, did absolutely nothing to grow them. Many of us would do little if we heard cutting was scheduled. Still, we were blessed with amazing beauty, and protected from the heat of a Puerto Rican sunny day.
In that forest, I was reminded of our time in Old San Juan. When asked about navigating the area, the tour guide at the hotel was quick to say, "Stay away from THIS neighborhood," he said, stabbing the map with his finger. "The people are poor, and the place is dangerous, but they won't bother the tourists because they know that tourism is the life of this island."
So, my daughter and I walked around the Old San Juan in virtual peace. It was almost hauntingly peaceful. We could see the neighborhood. We could see the colorful houses and the roofs that looked as if a strong wind would blow them away. The barrio looked like it was a fragile prize to coming storms, for it was on the rocks under the strong walls of the fortress built long ago. From the Castillo walls, we could see how someone, or some bureaucracy attempted to push and limit this problematic neighborhood from the shade, even though no one alive today planted the metaphorical tree.
Heartbreaking, and a sign of humanity's limited vision.
I was stepping into a situation I knew I couldn't impact even slightly. Yet, I was delighted when an older man, who wasn't so well dressed, came to my car and said he would watch it for me while I toured around. "I be right here, protecting your car, for one... or two, or three dollars," he said. I gave him the money hoping he would get a good meal, and knowing my car was already safe and secure without his watchful eye. He just wanted a bit of shade. I was happy to oblige.
Warren Buffet's words have never been more true. There is not a person alive who isn't benefiting from trees planted by another. Not one. Some of us live in the shade of their parents, who made sure their education was in place so that they could have a fighting chance. Others of us live in the shade of someone else's missed opportunity. Some of us share the shade of a tree planted by the enslaved, humans who could never enjoy produce of that tree, or its shelter. Many of us are too short-minded to think outside of our own experiences, and the light of some egos help them forget the coolness of the shade in which they stand.
The myth of "discovery" is a sick thing; it is ego-maniacal to believe that any of us discovered anything. We displace. We ignore and dismiss, then overthrow. We colonize. We don't discover.
The same is true of what we own. If we pulled ourselves us by our bootstraps, someone else made the boots. If we climbed our own ladder of success, a tree someone else planted was cut to created the pieces of that ladder.
I invite you to become reconciled to the idea that no matter how much we worship individualism, we are connected to each other, and we are privileged to sit in the shade of others. Let us plant trees for others. There is more than enough shade for us all.
