It’s Only Natural
Strong roots find ways to grow.
“Alfredo,” I call over the new gardener, “this here. Is it a weed?”
Alfredo pokes at the thin, lush branch sprouting up from the dirt.
“No.” He shakes his head and smiles. “It’s a tree.”
“A tree? But we never had a tree here. It’s too close to the fence.”
“Maybe your neighbor had a tree.”
A memory-wracking pause. “Oh right, he did. But he took it out a while ago.”
“Well, this is a root, and it’s growing again.”
“The root is growing a tree? In the middle of the root?”
“Yup.”
“Even though the tree was taken out?”
“Yup.”
“What happens if we leave it?
“It’ll grow a new tree.”
Huh.
The backyard exchange with Alfredo wasn’t just a lesson in gardening, but an unearthing of a truth about the fundamental makeup of Creation, colloquially referred to as “nature”. Nature is the system we credit for the day-to-day running of the world, including the celestial bodies of space. To say, nature is an all-encompassing term for the factory setting of the universe, the innate coding entwined throughout, the very essence that makes each entity what it is. Although nature can be tamed or trained, trammeled or trampled to behave in ways incongruous to its default state, a lack of constant force or compulsory system override results in reverting back to factory settings. “Nature” or “natural” are the ultimate descriptors, the words used when logic runs out of explanations, when discovery reaches the end.
The nature of a root compels it to burrow deep and intermingle with the soil to anchor that which grows upward. Knobby or gnarled, thick or thin, a root left to its own devices will continually reach outward. Roots shore up the base of a plant, though their oft seen, their efforts only evident in what grows above. Though roots are generally regarded in their role of literally grounding a plant, roots are just as much a part of the plant as the side that grows in shapes and colors very different from its base. The growing tip of the plant is just the other side of the root, unsurprising as it mirrors its nature to always reach outward.
Though far less pleasing to the eye, and certainly never glorified in tabletop vases, without roots, stems and leaves and fruits and buds are just a wither away from mulch. However, without the stem and leaves and fruits and buds, the root is just an anchor without purpose. Roots are first to form and last to leave, a clue of nature as to why they’re even there. As if something essential to growth is connected to the health and strength of the roots. As if the very nature of roots is to ensure the plant grows.
Roots are more than just a base, as they’re map of the plant as well. Where did this flower come from? Trace its roots. Why isn’t this plant budding? Check its roots. Will the leaves grow back? Depends on its roots.
This truth is most evident when it comes to weeds, which contain roots too quick and eager to promulgate to know they shouldn’t anymore. And really, what’s a weed, but a fast-growing, dominating plant we’ve decided not to keep? Characteristic to a weed is its resiliency in the face of our attempts to uproot it. Weeds return again and again, unless wholly ripped out with their roots. Even then, the soil must be partially overturned to ensure the job’s thoroughly done, or they’ll be back and expanding just as quickly as before. Weeds can do little else, as such behavior was written into their very coding from the start of Creation.
Why so much emphasis on growth? Growth is the greatest indicator of life, the defining line between existing and being alive. Unhealthy growth is fragile, twisted, wilted, and will not endure. Healthy growth is vivid, bold, and vivacious, a constant expansion and reaching to be more.
What sprouts above soil is more fragrant, flavorful, colorful than the roots it stems from. Yet, not a single leaf, stem, branch, blossom can survive without the plain roots that start it all and support the plant beneath. Cut a branch, leaf, or flower and see how long it lasts away from its roots. Cut away a branch, leaf, flower and see how long before another grows in its place.
“Alfredo, why aren’t these trees bearing more fruit this year?”
The gardener looks from the leafy lemon tree to the overgrown peach tree, both vibrant and healthy, but scant on offerings.
“They need to be watered better.”
“They are watered, see all their leaves are green.”
“They need to be watered deep, a few times a week.”
It’s not enough for roots to burrow, to stimulate the power of growth in the ground, to thrive where soil is rich and nourishing, but to continue to do so even after a tree is grown. It’s not enough to pick and trim, to focus on what’s above, to be satisfied with how things appear, for what’s beneath still requires care.
At their best, roots present the possibility of something sweet and beautiful for others. It’s evident in the blossoms that appear before the fruit forms, a pretty signal that the best is yet to come. Because even a plant has the potential to reach the pinnacle of life through giving part of itself to others. And part of itself is given as proven by the fact that the seeds of the fruit, or even a carefully cut limb of a tree, can be planted in the soil to grow roots of its own with proper care.
However, roots must be watered deep, so they will not only grow, not only provide shade, but also give sustenance. To say, the best comes forth when the roots are strongly anchored, nurtured, and fully immersed. When such is the case, the tree not only provides, but also endures the changes that come in the natural cycle of a year. Leaves shed and blossoms fall, trees become skeletal, yet, as long as healthy roots hunker deep, the tree will flourish again.
Man is compared to a tree in a number of ways, and the parallels reach from the strength of his base to the goodness he bears. The health of a tree, the health of a man is contingent on several basic factors: (sun)light, (nutritious) ground, (plentiful) water, and strong roots. With all these in place, a man, like a tree, may flourish and grow, and, like a tree, the first three factors are null without the last. Even when the first three are sparse to lacking awhile, so long as the last manages to be resilient and strong, man, like a tree, will endure and grow again. Even if it takes awhile to become evident aboveground.
As a tree, man can grow rich in color and reach, with works that spread like a canopy. Such a man may be beautiful to behold, but the man is contained to himself until blossoms appear. A man who gives generously to others is not only not detracting from himself, but representing the best of what man can be. As a tree, a man broken or torn is possibly only showing superficial damage. As long as his roots are strong and deep, as long as there is hope that the roots can be nurtured back to health, he can still regrow. The new tree that rises may not be exactly the same as before, it may not even be somewhere else along the roots, but the same roots anchor it from below. Leaves color and fall, blossoms open and fruits rot, aboveground cycles through a range of changes, but belowground is robust and resilient, for roots are man’s true anchor to life and nourishment. Whatever a tree, or body, may endure, it’s only a matter of time before nature compels the roots to grow upward again.
When his roots are strong, man can prevail through changes wrought by the nature of living, even if it means shedding leaves for a time, or blossoms falling before fruits have a chance to form. Man can weather fierce winds and mighty storms, times of cutting back, times of appearing a skeleton of his potential, because with sturdy roots, with strong values, appreciation of the past, and a true moral foundation, man will not only endure, but flourish again. So long as the roots are not left to rot or wither, they are the foundation for man to rise again.
“Alfredo, what do we do with this little tree?”
“Cut it.”
“Can we do anything to make the root stop growing a tree?”
“Nope.”
Such is the nature of healthy roots, and no outside force can change it through force or will. Only a fundamental change in the very nature of the roots can stunt their growth, and then the roots aren’t really what they were meant to be, are they?
The only way to prevent growth is to yank out the roots completely, to destroy them past the point of functioning. For as long as they cling to the earth, they will strive to fulfill their nature. What if I change my mind? What if I want to replant it? What if I want to transplant it?
That depends on the soil. That depends on the care. Most of all, that depends on the durability of the roots.
For nothing in life is infallible, but the nature of healthy roots to grow. So, even a young tree can one day grow from ancient roots burrowed deep.