While walking beneath the trees, looking up is almost instinctual. I admire the ambition of the towering figures as they reach upward with every limb, their leafy crowns gilded in the morning light. Beneath their canopies, I know I can find shelter from the rain and shade from the summer heat. In the midst of my upward fascination, however, looking down at what lies underfoot is a rarity, unless it causes me to trip.
The tree, however, does not end at the forest floor. Beneath the earth, its roots echo the architecture above, branching quietly through rich, enduring soil. Above, the crown reaches beyond itself, stretching into the open sky. It catches the light, and with it, attention. Perhaps that’s why I so admire its beauty. It resembles the way that growth is often represented: ever upward, ever outward.
I often welcome what can be seen ahead of me; the milestones, the accomplishments, the courage to branch into unfamiliar places. The crown seems like the pinnacle. It reaches toward the future with its shining face full of possibility. It invites me to imagine who I might become.
And yet, the splendor of the crown is only possible because of what lies beneath it. Its onward expansion depends on loyal roots quietly sustaining the strength that it takes to grow.
What does it mean to honor where we came from while becoming someone new?
I don’t know that trees answer this quandary, but they have convinced me that the future and the past, like the crown and the roots, may not be at odds with one another. Rather, they may work together to support the present.
After spending 6 weeks as an intern at a monastery that holds roots in a 1500 year old tradition, I am becoming more aware of my own roots. Away from my home, I am learning to grow upward and outward without completely uprooting the traditions and support systems that have acted as my sustaining strength during the process of learning how to stand tall and steady, reaching toward the new days ahead.
AUTHOR
Sophie Trusty is a recent graduate of Grace College in Winona Lake, Indiana. She spent this past summer interning in the communications department at Mount Saint Benedict Monastery in Erie, PA.
Lovely! Thank you.
That was lovely. I’ve been an oblate of a small Benedictine monastery that is coming close to closure. It’s hard to witness and imagine what comes after for those of us who are oblates. Your piece was timely and hopeful to read. Thank you .