Of standing still in silence

There was this one tree that one’s eyes picked up while looking through the window. It stood behind a larger, more luscious tree that gave shade to one’s window. One had wondered why one should wonder about it. It invaded one’s mind that one now just greeted good-mornings and waved good-nights to it silently.

To one, the tree stood out because, unlike the other trees that were covered in glorious green, it was stark bare and, when one was feeling exhausted, seemed to shrink further. One remembered worrying, at times aloud, if the tree was going to die. It had been without leaves for almost a year. So when the park, in which it resided, went through reconstruction, one got even worrier.

Until one day, despite these hustle and bustle one found the tree starting growing leaves.

The tree was not yet lush nor green. One still worried that it might not survive. Yet while looking through the window, one could almost hear a familiar voice whisper, these too shall pass. Just hang in there!          

“I look at a tree and the tree doesn’t tell me anything.” […] “The tree does not have a message; The tree does not want to sell me something. The tree won’t say to me – ‘look at me, I am so beautiful, I am more beautiful than the other trees.’ It’s just a tree – and it’s beautiful.” […] “Nothing special – incredibly powerful.”

Peter Zumthor (Peter Zumthor: Seven Personal Observations on Presence In Architecture)

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