first, there’s the sense that you’re overly vulnerable, because suddenly you’re opening up to them and you’re revealing parts of yourself you never thought you’d tell anyone about, until you’re signing yourself over to their hands and hoping they don’t reject the rougher edges. then there’s allowing them to have a bit of you, to carry around. and what about other people, and all the obstacles, and maybe the future, or maybe not the future, and you’re just like fuck, what is this worth, what am i doing. you start questioning yourself and trying to be rational, which is stupid because rationality isn’t for love and love isn’t for being rational and if you try to do both it hurts too much and it fucks things up that could be lovely otherwise. it’s impossible hard but you have to just stop overthinking before it fucks everything. don’t think about love, don’t think about whether or not it might be love, stop worrying. there’s enough to worry about already, falling for this other person. there’s sex, there’s being compatible, there’s having chemistry that’s just there and that can put a hole in your brain, having natural tension and never resolving it, just wanting it like crazy. and then when it is resolved you’ve got this whole other thing because suddenly you’ve given your bodies to each other and if you’ve fallen for her it’s this huge deal because you’ve given something, and it’s this beautiful thing, and maybe this is what makes you fall harder and you’re now tied to each other in this other way and it’s crazy. and then you have to be like, do i go for the simple happy thing, do i go for the fiery passionate thing, do i follow my heart or my clit or both or whatever? and mostly it’s both, just don’t follow your goddamn head because we both know you can talk yourself in and out of anything, including your own feelings, and your heart is the only thing that knows what’s going on up there.
i don’t know, is that helpful? i think most importantly it’s all worth it because we don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, and this other person might be that tomorrow, even if they’re far away, even if they’re not the best choice, even if they’re totally gone right now and you’re just watching from the other side of the glass. you just have to go for it.
“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farm boy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.
A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live. When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you, and your thoughts will grow silent. You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.
A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother. So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”