Parable of the Roots

Once upon a time, there was a seed and that seed was planted deep in the ground. The seed found itself in rich, good soil, full of nutrients. That year, the rains came on time and the seed found himself sprouting, expanding growing into something that, through the years, would become tall, strong and beautiful. The seed grew into a mighty tree.

Decades later, people came. They admired the tree—it's strength, its beauty, its longevity. Centuries passed and the tree was even more admired for what it provided to the community: shade and firewood and shelter and a sense of history. The tree was proud of its heritage, but also proud of what it was able to do for the people here and now. The tree had a sense that it was making a real difference.

Decades passed again and the tree continued to stand tall, but it noticed something. The town which had always noticed and celebrated the tree seemed to have moved on. The town was now building in other directions and fewer people came to admire the tree. Most who did still spoke of its beauty, though some came and just tore off a limb or two without any sense of respect. But the tree grew frustrated. Things were not like they once had been, and the tree began to feel like he needed to be closer to where people were, and more like the people in the town. If the tree did that, he believed, he would be welcomed, admired and accepted again.

"It's these darned roots!" the tree exclaimed one day. "They're holding me back. They keep me in the same place, and they make me stay where I have always been. If it weren't for these roots, I'd have more freedom. I could go where I want and be who I want to be." So, the tree decided, it was time to shed the roots. It was time to move on. The roots were no longer helpful. They were in the way.

So, day by day, inch by inch, the tree pulled and pulled and tugged and tugged until one day, there was a "pop." Part of his trunk had come loose from the roots. There was hope! So he tugged and tugged and pulled and pulled, and after quite a lot of time, the tree found himself loose in all but one spot. "Just...one...more...tug..." he said and with a loud CRACK, the tree came loose.

"Now, at last!" the tree said. "I can go where the people are and I can be who they want me to be! They will admire me! They will love me again! All will be well now that I have gotten rid of my roots!"

And so the tree set off, heading toward the place where the people were. The people were amazed and they spoke well of the tree, even surrounding it as they once had. But then someone noticed that the tree's leaves were beginning to turn brown. Not the pretty colors that the leaves had turned every fall. This was a deadly brown, the kind that signaled the final death of a limb. "Oh, it's okay," the tree said. "Don't pay any attention to that. It's just one limb. The rest of me is as vital as ever!"

So days went by, with the tree making sure to draw attention to his lively branches, not the dying ones, for more died every day. One day, the tree finally had to admit to himself that something was wrong. Without the life-giving nutrients provided by the roots, it was hard to think, hard to focus, hard to breathe. And then, one day, the tree simply didn't wake up. All the leaves were brown and the bark had fallen off. The people had long ago stopped paying attention to the tree, anyway, because it didn't offer anything different than what they already had in their lives. On the rare occasion that they they glanced toward the tree, all they saw was a relic from the past. Someday, they might build a museum and remember the good old days of the tree, but right now, they were too busy doing their own thing.

Meanwhile, out on the edge of town, two children playing noticed something. Where the tree had once stood, a new shoot was beginning to grow. Turns out, the roots were still viable, and they had found a new way to grow...