I sit here writing, taking casual sips of coffee, curious about the nature of things like trees. And suddenly I’m overcome by a peculiar longing: I want to become a tree—to know its tireless and entirely purposeful aspects; its large-scale existence, unapologetic, held tight to a benevolent Earth; its indefinable, perhaps unknowable simplicity.
I want to know what it's like to give shade to bookworms, picnicking lovers, sleepy children; feel the temperature fluctuate across uncounted days and seasons; to be visited by myriad animals with all their dependences; to absorb warm light; to drink cold rain; to burst into flower-song.
I imagine I am this tree: alive in that way I cannot experience; my body an entirely different world, my DNA plant, my essence something akin to a god.
First published in the November 2010 issue of Naturewriting.com.