Is an oak tree organized?
That might seem like a dumb question, but I don’t think it is. It’s just that we don’t think that an object that appears to do nothing could have any organizing qualities.
Yet this tree runs on an unwritten agenda that follows a brand of order we can’t even begin to imagine.
This tree may look a little disorganized with her branches going every which way and broken limbs dangling in disrepair. But she isn’t bothered by appearances and it has nothing to do with her organizing skills.
This tree doesn’t need a watch to know what time it is or a calendar to know what day it is. Quite frankly Scarlet, she doesn’t give a damn because she’s organized in a way that would take volumes of To Do lists to accomplish what she does. Of course this tree is organized and just because she appears to do nothing, doesn’t mean she’s not busier than we ever stop to consider.
This oak tree lives near us in Woodland, Washington. We pass her every time we go to the old feed store to get birdseed. She’s all by herself in a meadow that produces alfalfa in the spring and oats in the summer and fall.
Because she picked this location to spend her life, she attracts brides and grooms, led by their wedding photographers to get just the right romantic portraits.
It takes a lot to get my husband’s attention, yet she attracts it every time we pass her and today he happened to have his camera. As he walked up the muddy road to capture her stark beauty, I sat in the car and admired her. She reminded me of a mother with her hands in the air in sublime thanksgiving. She has a secret and is almost ready to burst with the truth that she may look dead, but she’s alive and ready to do her work of being who she is; a mighty oak tree.
I think she’s a master organizer and she doesn’t have to say a word. She just stands strong in who and what she is and the Universe waits to serve her as she serves it. Soon her arms will be full and she’ll dance and sing in the summer breezes. Her limbs will house birds and animals. She’ll be a bed and breakfast, lunch and dinner as she is silent witness to life’s cycles of reproduction, care of newborns, frisky play and the violence of nature’s survival of the fittest.
Her branches will be launch pads for baby robins, and her trunk will be a jungle gym for baby chipmunks and squirrels. Her leaves will shelter picnickers and lovers and more photographers, including my husband who will succumb to her beauty in summer and again in autumn when she uses her supreme magical skills to turn herself a radiant orange.
I’ll let you see her through all the seasons, but let her starkness teach us a lesson. Just because she doesn’t have a To Do list doesn’t mean she’s not organized. Just because we don’t have a To Do list doesn’t mean that we’re not organized either. I’m not saying we’re better than this oak tree, but being human does require so much that we forget to give ourselves credit for. Honor yourself for coming here to be human. Be in awe of what it means to be human and be as organized as you need to be to please you.
P.S. In my newest book, The JOY of Being Disorganized, I have filled the chapters with ways to find Peace and Joy, no matter what your circumstances are. It is so rewarding to hear from so many of you who have purchased the book that you have found those two things.