Most people I know can stay in the same place for a very long period of time, maybe even their entire lives, and be perfectly happy -- or at least adequately content. Some can stay in the same jobs and maintain routines, day in and out, and find a way to make what they do fulfilling, quite challenging even. I think of these people as towering oak trees with roots as deep as the earth; they stand where and as they do and serve a great purpose to those around them. These trees protect those underneath them from the harsh glare of the sun, and shower soft streams of filtered light through their thick, broad leaves and allow them to flourish and grow. All kinds of creatures take refuge within their strong branches and children sit at their knotted feet and lean upon their massive trunks as they try to get a bit of rest from their play.
But me, I get root rot. And I'll never be an oak tree.
The only thing constant about me is change. As soon as I was old enough to be independent I moved from Manila to Los Angeles -- and kept on moving. I moved between schools, residences, jobs, even relationships. I moved every time I felt as if I were about to get waterlogged, although sometimes I had to because I had no other choice, even if I wasn't ready to. But each time I did, I managed to figure it out; I learned how to make the unfamiliar a bit more agreeable and build up a new home around me.
The funny thing is that I don't do much globetrotting, at least not yet -- unlike, say, my older sister who can throw a backpack around her shoulders at a moment's notice, hop on a plane, and find a brand new place to explore. I like to, instead, stay in one place for a while until the scenery's burned into into my mind's eye, and then only move when I feel like I have nothing more to learn.
Perhaps my restlessness is a result of my belief that I've not been fulfilling my potential and purpose, as well as due to my intense desire and need to live with passion. I've always been afraid, however, to define just what my potential, purpose, and passion is. Whenever I've been close to discovering it I start to fear what it might mean for me to find it: will I be alone? will I be poor? will what I need to give up be more than I'm willing to part with?
And so no wonder I merely move around -- learning something new each time, but never really finding myself. I've always thought of myself as a person who jumped with both feet, and only recently realized that I was tethered to an invisible bungee cord that I forgot about. This year I've decided to cut that cord and simply jump. I can't begin to describe how utterly terrified I am, and of so many different things at that. But I'm seeking my home now -- whatever or wherever that might mean for me -- and the only way I'll find it is to work through the fear and make real change.
A few years ago I bought a rare Japanese Maple tree online, in the smallest size they were available because it was all I could afford. I was thrilled when I saw it slowly thrive and grow; within a year I moved it from its grower's pot into a larger, prettier container, where it continued to bloom during Spring and shed its leaves in the Fall. But last year, nothing happened as the seasons came and went, and even now again as the other Japanese Maple trees in my garden have begun to show off their brilliant colors. This little tree remained leafless and frighteningly still for an entire year.
I was afraid that perhaps it had died of root rot, even if its fragile trunk appeared to be (barely) alive. So a few weeks ago I decided to make one final attempt to save it: I took it out of its pot, gently spread its roots, planted it in a much larger wooden tub, replaced the soil, watered it...and waited patiently. This afternoon I discovered that it finally had begun to bud -- my precious tree was still alive after all!
Nature always reminds us whenever we find ourselves withering, that perhaps what's needed is to get ourselves out of rut we're in, maybe this place we've outgrown, and find somewhere else we can spread our roots and thrive again. There are never any guarantees, of course, so it requires tremendous courage to change and seek a better place in the sun. But if we know ourselves, understand where we've been and have an idea of where we want to go, there's a good chance we'll make it. Otherwise, if we decide to stay where we are and hope that everything around us changes instead, then we'd be betting on things we can't control.
Even tenacious oak trees, after all -- if they're planted in the wrong soil or subjected to harmful elements -- can waste away. The key is to pay attention always, so you know if you're standing still -- or simply still standing.
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