Drunken trees and resilience
The title, cover, and content of my book, Crooked Grow the Trees, are driven by metaphor. I see constant parallels between life in nature and the lives of people.
I recently visited Alaska where I was introduced to the "drunken tree". When there are enough of them together, they comprise the "drunken forest". What is a drunken tree, you ask?
Apparently, the existing permafrost keeps the tree roots from burrowing downward. The result is that the trees don't grow very tall, and the roots spread out sideways rather than traveling deeper into the soil. Because the roots are spreading out horizontally, they tend to become intertwined with the roots of neighboring trees. When a strong wind or heavy snowstorm grabs a tree, attempting to wrestle it to the ground, this system of intertwined roots keeps it from falling. The outcome is trees which lean or curve downward, but remain rooted to the ground. Some that I saw actually had the crown of the tree almost touching the ground, but the base of the tree was still held fast by the root system.
This natural phenomenon fascinated my metaphoric brain. What social permafrost occurs that keeps us from establishing deeper roots? Some that come to mind are trauma, abuse, neglect, mental illness, substance abuse, poverty. There are so many ways we can fail to feel firmly connected to the ground of our lives.
As our roots spill out sideways, looking for another tendril to grasp, what might we find? Friends to replace dysfunctional families? Counselors who help us shed shame and twisted self-images? Jobs that give us a sense of purpose? Social groups which can feel like a place to belong?
In my years of listening to others speak of their pain, it seemed that what felt so isolating and unique to them was actually something shared throughout the world. They felt the shallowness of their roots, having run into permafrost, and feared toppling over, or judged themselves for their struggle. It is my hope that my story helps them see and feel the interconnected roots they share with so many others.
As I said in my dedication, we are more alike than different.
I recently visited Alaska where I was introduced to the "drunken tree". When there are enough of them together, they comprise the "drunken forest". What is a drunken tree, you ask?
Apparently, the existing permafrost keeps the tree roots from burrowing downward. The result is that the trees don't grow very tall, and the roots spread out sideways rather than traveling deeper into the soil. Because the roots are spreading out horizontally, they tend to become intertwined with the roots of neighboring trees. When a strong wind or heavy snowstorm grabs a tree, attempting to wrestle it to the ground, this system of intertwined roots keeps it from falling. The outcome is trees which lean or curve downward, but remain rooted to the ground. Some that I saw actually had the crown of the tree almost touching the ground, but the base of the tree was still held fast by the root system.
This natural phenomenon fascinated my metaphoric brain. What social permafrost occurs that keeps us from establishing deeper roots? Some that come to mind are trauma, abuse, neglect, mental illness, substance abuse, poverty. There are so many ways we can fail to feel firmly connected to the ground of our lives.
As our roots spill out sideways, looking for another tendril to grasp, what might we find? Friends to replace dysfunctional families? Counselors who help us shed shame and twisted self-images? Jobs that give us a sense of purpose? Social groups which can feel like a place to belong?
In my years of listening to others speak of their pain, it seemed that what felt so isolating and unique to them was actually something shared throughout the world. They felt the shallowness of their roots, having run into permafrost, and feared toppling over, or judged themselves for their struggle. It is my hope that my story helps them see and feel the interconnected roots they share with so many others.
As I said in my dedication, we are more alike than different.
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