“Of natural bodies some have life in them, others do not.”
Aristotle, On the Soul
It seldom catches our attention. So easy is it for us to pass it by without noticing.
That tree is alive. Choose the tree—it matters not which one: the specimen maple in the back yard; the yoshino cherry out front; the apple tree in the orchard; the lone pine clinging to the mountainside; or that white oak, one among many, standing silently in the forest.
How do I begin to comprehend what is going on here? I will pull up a chair and sit down. And observe.
Matter can live. It can nourish itself; it can grow; it can reproduce. Living matter is no ordinary matter. It is animated matter; and it is different, as is evident in the unique character of living actions. Matter never acts this way, except when it is alive.
The scientist’s description of how living things act does not lessen the astonishing character of these actions. It highlights it.
In me there is living matter, just as in the tree. Remarkably, unless plants live; I cannot. Our living is intimately intertwined—as the roots of trees—whether I see this or not.
To understand human life, I do well to try to understand the deep commonality between myself and other living material things. There is a time to emphasize the difference; but the difference is only understood in a context of sameness, and of interwoven destinies.
Living material things. I live with them. I eat some. I tend to some. I contemplate some. I can care about, learn from, and be grateful for them all. Indeed, I am one.
Aristotle (384-322 B.C.), student of Plato, tutor of Alexander the Great, has been considered by many to be the greatest ancient philosopher. On the Soul is his study of the amazing reality of living things.
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Image: Oak in Winter. Donald Peattie (1898-1964)
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I’ve been blessed to have a view of the trees; I’m on a third story, and the trees – ah! they evoke great calmness and serenity and beauty, they way they move to and fro in the winds. Truly they bespeak of the peace of God, God Who is Peace. May our minds ascend to God daily, in the way that the trees naturally shoot upward, to the sky, to the sun. Thanks for your reflection, Professor Cuddeback.
And may you continue to enjoy the gift of the trees! Thank you Brian.
This reminds me of a conversation I had almost 20 years ago with a girl from the Plains, when we were both at a summer camp in New Hampshire. She said all the trees there made her nervous, afraid of something hiding among them. She preferred the open prairie. I thought a lot about that, and when I visited the Plains later that summer, I realized I had the opposite view. On the prairie, I felt exposed, vulnerable. I missed the comforting presence and protection (and shade!) of the forest. And since then, I have known how important it is to me to live among trees. Thank you for sharing your reflection.
Angela, And thank you for this. While I too can see why someone from the prairie can feel that way, I’m with you…
Although I will note: In my visits to NH, I can see how one can feel a little overwhelmed by trees. I especially love Virginia, where I feel we have an amazing balance of great trees with some open spaces too