17 November 2009

Last weekend, a friend of mine dropped by just to see "in real time" (his words) the legendary flirting trees of Heaven, Yvon and Chicky. Somehow, my photographs and stories made his imaginative mind run like crazy, waxing poetry and possible cinematography angles, while lugging his high-end digital camera for some 'fantastic shoots' (his words).

"That's it?" he looks disgruntled at the small a-meter-and-a-half square
plot of land where my darling trees stood tall and proud.

"Yes, there goes our singing trees!"
I beamed, holding out my hand at my now dancing trees, swaying in the heat of the late afternoon. Trees love a good audience. They were probably waiting for my friend to go near so they can flirtingly sweep their branch over my visitor, the way they always do to me when I go about cleaning their area.

"Well . . . uh . . . I expected something more, you know . . . . dramatic?"

What do you mean 'dramatic'?
I wondered out loud watching the disappointed face of my visitor.
Can he not find drama in them trees?
What was he expecting?
An acre of rich earth housing just my two trees?

"Yeeeeeah" he slipped his hands in the pockets of his jeans and sighed.
Obviously, whatever his plans of photographing my trees has now been shelved. This man is simply not enamored with my trees.

Well, I wiped my sweaty self and faced him with a sigh. I was busy cleaning all day and was not expecting a visitor and here comes one practically criticizing my overly dramatic storytelling. Heaven is not a grand place with plenty of space for horseback riding, dude. I mean we have a limited space and in this small precious space we call home and our Heaven, lives all of beings with heartwarming stories and dramatic highlights. Nothing fancy. Nothing earth-shaking. Just warm stories. Look! Do you see another plant growing underneath our chico tree Chicky and another one on that small land around it?

He looked bored but when I pointed to the new plants growing in that small plot, he looked interested. He did not notice it. He wondered why I planted it there. I told him I didn't. They just grew there! Maybe the birds brought it. Or maybe the wind. Maybe a kindred spirit did, but who cares? These little magical moments are all in front of you, if only you can see with eyes full of wonder.

My trees are full of drama. Chicky, our chico tree, was planted in the 80s when my parents were still around. Chicky saw the cats, the chickens, the dogs of Heaven long before our avocado tree Yvon and long before our present dogs arrived. Chicky practically grew up with us. Chicky saw Heaven from its unpolluted beginnings when air was fresh and we can feel the coolness of the nearby lake. Chicky was there when I grumbled and laughed and cried and her story and mine are etched in a dramatic book called life. If that is not dramatic, what is? What's wrong with this moron?

Chicky laughed.
The trees swayed.
The birds sang and several chico fruits fell.
My visitor jumped to avoid the falling fruits
thinking it was bird's poo.

I sighed.
Chicky just offered my visitor a gift.
And the poor guy thought its crap!
I picked up the fallen chico fruits
and placed them where the birds can eat them.

Yes, maybe I have a fertile imagination.
Yes, my creative mind sees things
and create out of madness.
But I am not an insane storyteller
although I probably convinced my friend.
Maybe some people are just mad readers.

But what I do know
we are oftentimes
soooo blind
to the real beauty around us.

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