I don’t just see a tree to my right, as I walk from the meditation hall back to my room at 6 a.m. I see sinuous roots erupting from the ground and soaring dozens of feet above me. Part of the earth and part of the sky. The animated patterns of bark climbing the trunk are only put to shame by the sudden dispersion of branches that scatter like repelling magnets over my head. And as the branches taper, the sun and wind mingle to illuminate the flurry of dancing green leaves, imbuing the structure with a sense of life and breath.
What I Learned From Living in a Monastery
Gigi Falk

My favorite Zen Master joke has this punchline:

“They call that a ‘tree’”.

Beautiful imagery. Thank you.

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