A Friendly Wager

A FRIENDLY WAGER

“The tree that brushes the heavens grew

from the tiniest sprout.

The most elegant pagoda, nine stories high,

rose from a small pile of earth.

The journey of a thousand miles began with

but a single step.”

- Lao Tzu

Is our existence programmed? The intensity of the built environment oppresses and squeezes the imagination into a hysterical state of frivolity and flippancy. Experiences are calculated and categorized to yield immediate outcomes. This frenetic and rabid atmosphere is one of consumption. Consumption of people, consumption of ideas, consumption of materials, consumption of dreams, consumption of space. This makes me hungry. This is a reality. It appears authentic and concrete. This is asphalt and steel and glass. This is smog and time tracked to a nanosecond. This is banality.

Magic is found here. It flourishes in cracks and fissures. It is fed by the same chaos that created the factories, towers and freeways. Life grows, adapts and transforms within the edges. Survival is measured by margins. This is fantasy, pulsing and beating with love, with passion, with purpose and inspiration. This is where I play and dance and sing; where I cry and suffer and wither. I trudge these streets each day, weaving through the frantic masses.

Home is calling. My breath quickens. Tunnel vision creeps in and I can only sense the throng of people flowing around me. One more turn and I see it. It is a thing of unspeakable beauty, majestic and wild. I do not know how old it is, but it was here before my ancestors came to this land and before the city grew around it. The tree was old when my grandfather’s grandfather built his home high in its embrace. It is the only home that I have ever known. While the city around it has been fashioned and built by ambition and greed, my home has been a sanctuary, a stalwart guardian of truth. It is the ultimate marriage of architecture and ecology. This is not to say that time stands still even for the purest of beings. Many misguided leaders have tried to remove our home in the name of the ‘public good’. Storms have lashed its branches and shaken its roots. Still it stands, like me, bending when needed but never breaking.

My footsteps are light as I walk the earthen path, leaving behind the boulevard. I ascend the plank stairway encircling the great trunk. The smell of wood washes over me as I step across the threshold. I set a kettle to boil and fix myself a cup of tea. An owl hoots and crickets chirp. It is good to be home.

Knock, knock. “Hello, I am looking for Ms. K. Are you her?”

“Yes, who’s asking?”

“Hello Ma’am, I am Red Fox, Urban Developer. I own half of the vacant land in the city and would like to turn this plaza into a commercial mega-plex. I came to make you a wager. If I can convince you that your tree house is not wanted here, you will give me your tree house and the plot of land it rests on. If I cannot convince you, then you can have my lands and all the trees in them. We will stop the first three folks who pass and ask them as to the importance of your tree house. If they are pleased with it, you will win. Do we have a deal?”

“Why would I make a wager with one as smart as you Mr. Red?”

“Ahhh, well I know you yearn for an answer to the futility and vehemence of the city. What better way to prove that than with a friendly wager?”

“Hmmm, well, when you put it that way… I won’t mind taking your land and trees. Let us see who we find, Mr. Red.”

The first passerby is an entrepreneur hurrying home from work. Mr. Red stops him and asks what he thinks of the tree house in the middle of the city. The man says, “I suppose it is a nice tree and all, but I have to walk around it a whole block out of my way each day to go to and from work. I don’t really like having to walk that far to get where I need to go. As a matter of fact, all it does is sit there each day and get in my way!” With that he strides off.

“There you see Ms. K. Your tree house is in the way.”

A blind man approaches heading the opposite direction and again Mr. Red stops him and asks what he thinks of the tree house in the middle of the city. The man says, “I use the tree as a marker along my path in this area. I can hear the leaves rustle in the city winds and the birds love to perch here and sing to each other. I am quite fond of it actually. I didn’t know that there is a house in it! That’s beautiful to know someone lives here in this garden in the city. I will write a song about this tree and its house in the middle of the city.” With that he strides off.

“That’s one for you and one for me Mr. Red.”

Mr. Red grins at me. A young lady with a big bag walks past and again Mr. Red stops her and asks what she thinks of the tree house in the middle of the city. The young lady says, “I am a student of the university and I like passing the tree house on my way to school. I wonder who lives there? It reminds me of a tree house from my childhood, but much grander and more splendiferous, almost magical really!” With that she strides off.

“You lose Mr. Red!”

Mr. Red begs and fusses until another passerby approaches. Mr. Red says, “Wait and see Ms. K, I’m sure you can be convinced.” Mr. Red stops a lady hurrying past as she fiddles with her phone. He asks what the lady thinks of the tree house in the middle of the city. The lady says, “I am a city official and I don’t care for the tree house in the middle of the city. This is a city after all. We need buildings and standards and ordinances that ensure things like this don’t happen without express approval by me! I am going to make sure the public hears about this eyesore when I’m up for re-election someday.” With that she strides off.

“There you have it Ms. K. Your tree house is an eyesore and not wanted.”

“One more Mr. Red and then I’m done playing your silly game. I have letters to respond to.”

I stop a white owl as it approaches. “Ask this one Mr. Red. You never said it had to be human.” Growling, the fox asks what the owl thinks of the tree house in the middle of the city. The owl says, “The tree house is a refuge in the city! Hoot! We birds need trees! Hoot, Hoot!” With that the owl flies off.

“Well Mr. Red, your game has been fun, but I am tired and I can think of a hundred more reasons as to why my tree house stays! I will however, take your lands and trees as payment for my time and will begin hereafter to build tree houses, tree libraries, tree restaurants, and tree schools in them. It really will be quite splendiferous and magical!”

Tears mat down the beard of Mr. Red. He attempts a glower but I can see his heart is not in it. He hands me the wager record before he turns and slinks away.

I return to my warm house and cold tea. I sit and open my bag: Letters and more letters. Such a revolution in the world. “Can you please lecture at our green building workshop?” “Your advice is desperately needed!” “We can’t do this without you.” “You are hereby summoned to appear before the Joint Council of Architecture and Planning.” “Ms. K, we loved your ideas for more tree houses and commercial tree structures! We’d love to talk to you about achieving these lofty goals.” Sigh The world of man may not be lost after all. Never underestimate the power of a tree house. I can’t wait to create a marvelous tree house city! This is going to be a hoot! This is my fantastical reality.