the tree within me

As I stood under the warm cascade of water this morning, a thought slowly crept into my mind, one that felt oddly profound yet simple. It wasn’t a grand philosophical idea or a moment of deep introspection, but rather a quiet realization about my role as a human being—a living being that sometimes feels like a tree.

You might wonder, what does being a tree have to do with being human? But bear with me.

Think about a tree. When it grows, it extends its branches outward, offering shelter and shade. It stands firm, providing a home to creatures seeking refuge from the elements. It nurtures the land around it, giving a safe place for birds to rest, animals to seek protection, and even humans to sit in its shade on a hot day. It’s generous, patient, and steadfast in its existence.

And as a human, don’t we act the same way when we meet someone new? At first, we offer our warmth, we shed kindness, we listen. We become their safe space—the one they can rely on, the place where they can take a breath and be themselves. We offer them a little bit of peace in this chaotic world. It’s instinctive, and in many ways, it’s beautiful.

But just like a tree, there’s a catch. A tree doesn’t grow in isolation. It needs water, sunlight, and care to thrive. If you forget to water it, to nurture it, over time, it withers. If a tree is deprived of what it needs, it slowly dies, unable to bloom, unable to grow. And what happens to us, the ones who act like trees, when we are not nurtured in return?

I’ve come to realize that I am just like that tree. No matter how many times I tell myself I don’t need anything in return, there’s a truth that remains: we all crave something, even if it’s just a tiny bit of acknowledgment. We want to feel seen, appreciated, and loved. We yearn for those little gestures—something that says, “You matter too.”

So, what happens when I don’t get that care in return? When I give and give, but never receive, when I am left standing alone without nourishment, without compassion?

The truth is, I start to die inside, just like the tree. And no, I don’t physically wither or dry up, but something deep within me fades. The spark that once fueled my kindness, my compassion, begins to dim. I stop feeling anything when they call. I stop caring when I see them. There is no warmth, no love, and no hate. There is just… indifference.

It’s not that I want revenge or that I wish them harm. It’s simply that I’ve become numb. Like a tree stripped of its leaves and roots, I lose my connection to the world around me. Without care, without the reciprocation of love, I slowly withdraw within myself. I cease to bloom, and I stop giving.

In this moment of realization, I understood something powerful: we, as humans, are not built to be one-sided givers forever. We need to be nurtured, to feel cared for. Without that, we lose our spark. We may still exist, but we no longer grow.

So, next time you meet someone who gives you warmth and shelter, take a moment to water them, too. Offer them something in return, however small it may be. Because no matter how much we deny it, a part of us—the very part that makes us human—needs to be nurtured, just like a tree. And if we don’t, we risk withering, becoming indifferent, and fading away without anyone even noticing.

Take care of your trees, your people, and remember that kindness is a cycle. You give, you receive, and together, you both bloom.

6th April. 2025