The Old Man and The Tree

                                              The Old Man and The Tree        

It was not known how long the old man had sat under the tree, only that for many generations, families of the village had sought wisdom from him. He would be there, sitting cross legged below the ever growing branches of the tree, when the earliest of risers went from their homes to tend their fields, and was still there, when the night owls among them retired for sleep.

Some said he was not real, despite the fact that he responded to questions when asked. They said that he was never seen eating or drinking, sleeping, or even standing, yet most of those very same people still sought his words, sometimes secretly in the very earliest of hours or latest of nights, sometimes openly with a sardonic smile, yet attentive.

No one knew his name although there was rampant speculation. A foreigner, a scion of an ancient and long gone local family, a person not of this world. 

As the village was isolated, there were few visitors, but when occasion did present someone from another town, they invariably added to the mystery by offering their own opinions. Some claimed a similar old man resided under a tree in their village or a village they had once visited in their travels. Others simply scoffed at the notion that the old man had sat cross legged under the tree for as long as the native villagers claimed.

Despite the doubts that these visitors presented, those in the village continued to seek wisdom from the old man as his words had served the village well over the years. His knowledge of farming, animals, plants, nature, the weather, seemingly every aspect of life in the village, had resulted in a life that, while still requiring hard work, still included occasional lean times, was one of prosperity and health. His direction provided ample food on the table, limited long term or widespread sickness, strong bonds among families and between neighbors.

One day, a day just like all the days that had come before, the old man was gone. His absence struck them hard, with a visceral force that had no equal in the village's history. At first, there was a kind of fugue state which permeated the village. They had become so dependent on the old man's guidance, it was as if they had not listened, only followed. Many men tried to fill the void, attempted to counsel those in need, but the result was more a cacophony of words than instruction.

Try as they might, the village could not come together, could not find consensus when problems arose. They were a rudderless ship, floating upon the waters of life.

Then one day, a few of the farmers of the village noticed someone under the tree. They excitedly ran to its base, eager to greet the old man whom they assumed had returned to them. But as they neared it, they realized it wasn't the old man, in fact it wasn't a man at all. There, sitting cross-legged under the tree was a woman.

As word spread that a woman was now sitting under the tree, there was a myriad of reactions. The children who had rarely asked the old man for advice but who had often played their games within view of his repose, resumed this tradition without pause as if their nature enabled them to identify safety and peace without the distractions of ego or bias.

The women, who had long understood the reality that placed them in a secondary position of power, also were cognizant of the indispensable nature of their place in the village. They did all the cooking, much of the harvesting, and most of the care-giving and child raising; in essence, the bulk of the day to day existence of the village depended on their efforts. For them, a woman under the tree was a long sought but secret desire, so most were quick to seek advice just as they had before when it was a man.

The men, not all, but most, struggled with the idea of a woman under the tree. They knew that what they had tried, how much chaos had existed since the old man had left, was not desired, but the idea of seeking wisdom from a woman did not blend with their perspective which had been reinforced for generations and generations. 

Whereas when the old man had instructed, they had not questioned, when the old woman did the same, the village men stopped to consider, comparing her advice with that of the old man. It didn't matter that, had they been able to replay his exact words, her words would have matched verbatim, it was the source not the words that they questioned. Still, as days became weeks, and weeks became months, and months became years, the men's reticence faded. 

And, as the children who witnessed that first day of the old woman under the tree grew to become the men and women who tilled the fields and cooked the meals and raised their own children, the old woman under the tree became accepted as if she had been there all along. 

As time continued to pass, visitors occasionally came to the village, and learning of the old woman under the tree whose guidance instructed every facet of life, and who never seemed to leave the tree, never ate or drank, or slept, they offered their own interpretations of her, suggesting that they had encountered a woman under a tree once before in another village, or that she was most likely a figment of imagination despite seeking her recommendations for themselves.

Many generations passed in this manner. The people of the village were once again prosperous, in that they had ample food for their table, good health, and strong bonds among family and between neighbors. 

And then, just as had occurred in the distant past, the old woman was gone one morning. As had happened before, the men tried to fill the void of her guidance, with little success. But this time, the women, having paid better attention to one of their own, were able to gather their shared knowledge and make the choices and decisions which maintained the village's success, at least as far as they could hide from the men, or allow them to think they were developing the proper conclusions on their own.

As time passed, and no one appeared under the tree, the children no longer played near the tree, and near the old man or old woman who rested beneath it, but began playing in its shade, and resting under its boughs themselves.  The tree became their home away from home, although unlike the old man and woman, they still ate and drank, and slept in their beds. 

In this way, the village began to realize that it was the tree itself that was the source of the old man and old woman's knowledge. As they had gained their wisdom from sitting in its shade, each generation of children experienced an increase of insight. And, as each generation of children who played and rested under the tree became the parents of the next generation of children who played and rested under the tree, and so on, the village became known throughout the land as a place to seek knowledge and understanding and guidance for how to provide ample food for the table, and how to avoid long and lasting disease, and how to live amicably within families and among neighbors. 

But time is a fickle mistress as has been noted by more than one writer. In the case of the village, time had provided a long life for the tree, but the tree was not eternal. Eventually, the tree began to fade. Some say it was merely the natural course of events, some say it was because the villagers spent less and less time under the tree, having concluded that they had absorbed all its knowledge, and could prosper without the tree.  

Regardless, the village did very well for quite some time after the tree withered and died.  Its accumulation of knowledge served both its own inhabitants and those of many neighboring towns and cities. And while it is still doing well, the shine has begun to fade as ego and selfishness have begun to penetrate the root of the realizations that came from the tree. 

Fortunately for everyone, there is news that in a small, remote village on the other side of the world, there is a village that claims that there is an old man sitting cross legged under a tree who never eats or drinks or sleeps but who provides guidance which seems to provide ample food for their table, protection against serious and long lasting disease, and direction on creating good relations among family members and between neighbors.