A Teaching

From the root, a trunk emerges.
From the trunk, branches extend.

The branches continue to spread,
sometimes bearing blossoms,
sometimes bearing fruit.

But if the seed was an apple seed,
what grows from it will be an apple tree.

Whether it blossoms,
whether it bears fruit,
or whether it remains nothing more than a bare and withered trunk,

an apple tree
is still an apple tree.

Birds may come to rest upon its branches.
Bees and butterflies may come as well.

A bird may pause for a while.
Sometimes, it may build a nest and remain.

Bees and butterflies come
when the flowers are in bloom.

The bird goes about its own life
whether the tree blossoms or bears fruit.

The bee, however, stays
only while the flowers remain.

Even if the fragrance of a flower travels a hundred miles,
the flower itself blooms
for only a few days.

One day, a bird landed on a branch
to shelter from the rain.

The bird waited
for the rain to stop.

But once the rain had passed,
would the bird still be able to fly?

If the bird had somewhere it needed to go,
should it not have flown
even with its wings wet?

A Reflection

A tree has the nature of a tree.
A bird has the path of a bird.

No matter who comes to it,
whether its flowers bloom or fall,
whether it bears fruit or not,

the tree does not lose its nature.

A tree grown from an apple seed
remains an apple tree,
even when it appears small and barren.

A bird may stay in the tree,
but it cannot become the tree.

Bees and butterflies are drawn by the fragrance of its flowers,
and when the flowers fall, they leave.

Perhaps what matters is not confusing
those who come to us
with what we are.

Someone who remains beside me
does not thereby become my root.

And when someone leaves,
I do not cease to be a tree.

Some relationships come only when the flowers are in bloom.

Some come merely to shelter from the rain.

There is nothing wrong with resting for a while
when the rain begins.

But one must not wait so long for the rain to stop
that one forgets one’s own path.

Or, put more sternly:

those who have somewhere they must go
cannot wait forever
for the conditions to become perfect.

There are times when one must fly
despite being wet.

There are times when one must move
despite the discomfort.

What kind of seed am I?

What kind of tree am I?

How should I regard
the birds, bees, and butterflies
that remain beside me?

And am I now a bird waiting for the rain to stop,

or a bird that must fly
even with wet wings?

“After the rain has passed,
will I still be able to fly?”