Roots

The dichotomy of everything feels sharper these days. The light and the dark. The good and the bad. The happy and the sad. We pretend that things are normal, as if the world isn’t kicking and screaming all around us, because that’s the best way we know how to cope. And so life goes on, as it does. We are alive, after all.

Recently I read The Alchemist. Without coincidence, the book is about the language of omens and signs, about fulfilling your personal destiny, and the connectedness of nature with all individuals. The story is told from the lens of a Shepard who decides to follow the signs and give up his sheep. The Shepard learns that everyone comes from the same soul, but not everyone listens to what is referred to as “The Language of the Universe.” He’s told that if you’re able to harness it, incredible things begin to happen. The access points are always there, but most of us get caught up in the insignificant and don’t notice.

I loved this book because it portrays a world that works in mysterious yet very simple ways. For me, one of the main lessons is that when we get distracted by the complexities of the world or by our own limitations, we’re not listening to our hearts and to the the common language we all share. And when we don’t, it’s very hard to achieve our true destiny. 

I’m in a moment where I find myself unemployed, and with more time than I’ve had in years. It’s mostly amazing, I feel free to do as I please and exist on my own timing. I’m also able to volunteer, to help the situation, and accomplish things that I didn’t have time to really focus on before like becoming fluent in Hebrew, which so far has felt incredibly rewarding. It’s not always so glamorous, though. Sometimes the abundance of time weighs on me, and I feel purposeless and wandering like a Shepard without sheep. But in moments of unease I remind myself that to be able to pause is a massive gift for which not everyone is granted. I have an opportunity now to redirect my life any way I see fit. To plant new seeds and nurture strong roots for my future growth, and for my place in the world.

It was Tu Bishvat last week, the celebration of trees. I love how aligned the Jewish calendar is with natural cycles. In Israel, winter is the rainy season, so Tu Bishvat intentionally falls this time of year to mark the 4-month period when tree roots absorb water and begin a new fruit-bearing cycle. It’s a funny holiday because it seems to be celebrated by children more than adults. But I think its merit serves adults in a very necessary way. Chabad put it best: “We humans can also celebrate along with the trees. After all, the Torah says, ‘Man is a tree of the field.’ We are nurtured by deep roots, as far back as Abraham and Sarah; we reach upwards to the heavens while standing firmly on the ground; and when we do all this right, we produce fruits that benefit the world—namely, our good deeds.”

For me, the lessons in The Alchemist align heavily with the metaphor of Tu Bishvat. It makes sense that grounding firmly in our roots is what will connect us deeper to ourselves, to each other, and to everything around us. Like how a tree grounded in its roots nurtures the surrounding environment, priming it for abundant growth. Trees are full of wisdom. They have lived on this Earth far longer than humans, and often times they can teach us powerful lessons. Trees have taught me that the answers to our problems are always right in front of us, all we have to do is listen. And if we do, if we really connect to the root of ourselves and the root of all things, we’ll be able to intentionally plant seeds of opportunity, change, and new beginnings, paving the way for boundless growth until it’s time to eat the fruits of our labors and marvel at all that we’ve planted in our lives.

And changing your own life means changing every life in your unique human network. How magical it is when you really take a moment to consider the interconnectedness of all living things. In fact, if we were to trace the beginnings of a single piece of fruit, we would be astounded by the levels of history it contains. Surely entire family lines, generations upon generations of love exist in the making of a single piece of fruit. What a wonderful thing to understand how nature constantly cascades around us in this subtle and beautiful and brilliant web of connections. Just like Paulo Coelho reminded me in The Alchemist, the signs are always there, we just have to notice them. And the people who do become transformed forever.

……

Chelsea Handler has always been one of my idols. I just adore her. The cover of her most recent book, Life Will Be the Death of Me is a photo of her holding an orange that her psychiatrist gave her on their first session together. Here’s the story, in Chelsea’s words:

“The orange signifies someone handing you a life raft. Someone taking care of you and thinking of you. When my psychiatrist Dan handed me an orange he had picked from his tree—was when I finally was able to cry. We should all be putting our arms around each other and handing out oranges to anyone who needs them. A reminder that we are all in this together.”

I share Chelsea’s belief that simply offering someone a piece of fruit is often the most meaningful gesture you can make. Because it’s a gentle reminder of how connected we truly are. So let this be your sign to give someone the gift of fruit. To loved ones and strangers alike. To support and uplift each other. Just as tree roots grow stronger when surrounded by other growth, we too are capable of so much more when we work together. When we take a moment to ground down and listen to the environment around us, we can understand the purest and deepest interconnectedness of all life, and incredible things can happen. Our most authentic selves begin to blossom, and our truest dreams and passions come alive, changing the world for the better.

More lessons learned this week:

1) Life is short. There is absolutely no time to waste doing things or being with people who don’t absolutely feed your soul, make you shine from the inside out. My zest for a brimming life has never been greater.

2) Everything we feel in our minds starts in the body. My reactions to things have always been visceral, but I think I noticed it most during this war. If something is wrong, our bodies know it immediately. The same is true when something is really right.

3) In many ways, life is a dance between what we can’t control and what we can. Acceptance of the forces outside of our direct influence (weather, war, people in general) and focusing instead on our reactions to things will allow us to blossom into our fullest potential.