Audio narration by David Marlow
“If I was a what?”
Under normal circumstances, job interviews can be nerve-wracking.
They can be especially tense when an interviewer tries to be clever by asking a gotcha question.
One interview question in particular sticks in my memory.
“If you were a tree, Mr. Marlow, what kind of tree would you be?”
My answer is lost to the shadows of memory, though it must have been satisfactory as they offered me the job.
While asking such a question in an interview might be of dubious value, there may be some merit in considering the question in our Ikigai journey.
Ram Dass takes this idea a step further by turning people into trees…
“…when you go out into the woods, and you look at trees, you see all these different trees. And some of them are bent, and some of them are straight, and some of them are evergreens, and some of them are whatever.
And you look at the tree and you allow it. You see why it is the way it is. You sort of understand that it didn’t get enough light, and so it turned that way. And you don’t get all emotional about it. You just allow it. You appreciate the tree.
The minute you get near humans, you lose all that. And you are constantly saying ‘You are too this, or I’m too this.’ That judgment mind comes in. And so I practice turning people into trees. Which means appreciating them just the way they are.”―Ram Dass1
If I were to answer the tree question today, I might share about the scar of a broken branch from a disappointment. Or the growth that came from a blessed season of good and nurturing things in my life.
Perhaps relay how events and circumstances have shaped me and made me the tree I am today—going into detail right down to the rings deep inside.
It would be a demonstration of acceptance and acknowledgment of life as it unfolded—representing the most accurate and least judgmental portrayal of me at my essence.
And I probably wouldn’t get the job.
Then again, a tree wouldn’t care.
If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?
Word of the Week
Omnifarious (adj.)
om·ni·fari·ous
[ahm-nə-FER-ee-əs]
1: Comprising or relating to all sorts or varieties.
From the 1650s meaning "of all varieties, forms, or kinds." From Late Latin omnifarius "of all sorts," from Latin omnifariam "in all places or parts, on all sides," from omnis meaning "all."
Like trees, there are many varieties of people, each a one-of-a-kind creation with a call and purpose.
In case you missed it…
Earlier this week’s Ikigai Thought for Today was on Thin Ice and Things to Come. —an admonition to explore poetry and to trust what is to come.
Ikiquest+
This week’s Coffee Contemplation for Ikiquest+ subscribers was about the importance of becoming who you already are.
It is perhaps the most potent insight we can receive. Who we are and were created to be is already there deep inside each of us. We must uncover it and be who we were created to be…ourselves.
This one was all audio with the transcript available for reading. This is likely the format for Coffee Contemplation going forward, so I made it available as a freeview to the entire subscriber list. You can check it out here.
Comment of the Week:
This week’s comment is from Amanda about an article I wrote on innovation.
"Most of what makes up innovation and improvement is plain old-fashioned work."
In our conversation, we noted parallels between innovation, self-reflection, and personal growth.
Not every part of this will be fun. Not every part of this will feel like I'm making progress. But when I stick to it, when I can keep zooming in to see the details and zoom out to see the progress I'm making, I always discover I'm doing better than I think.
This illustration is what many people think ‘innovation’ is about. That’s a lot like thinking that reading a self-help book is all that is required for personal growth.
Quote I’m Pondering
This thought is from David DuChemin’s book The Heart of the Photograph…
“Here is the miracle of art: When you create just for yourself and you do it in the truest way possible, your work possesses an authenticity that gives it its best chance to resonate with someone else.”
David DuChemin, The Heart of the Photograph
It's a little like being a tree. A tree doesn’t care what kind of tree you think it should be; it simply is the tree it was meant to be. It’s ‘art’ if you will is to be the expression intended from the beginning.
Interesting Thing I Saw This Week
Snow and lots of it.
We had the warmest (I called it least cold) December on record in Wisconsin. Winter decided to make up for lost time with what the weather people are calling a long-duration snow event.’ In layman’s terms, it’s snowing all day for several days.
Snow, especially large amounts of snow, takes on an omnifarious quality—all sorts or varieties.
Take these solar lights in my front yard. In theory, they are all the same. Yet the snow builds up differently on each one.
The light with no snow in the last picture had the most this morning. It’s covering had begun to look like a white British Beefeater hat. Now, the one closest in the picture has the most, yet its original snow covering toppled early on.
Here’s the progress and change…
Final Thoughts
The power went out last night moments before I sat down to document my final thoughts. It has been snowing off and on, mostly on, for three days.
That is unusual even for Wisconsin.
As I sat down to record the narration this morning, snow blowers fired up across the neighborhood, and the drone of small engines prevailed, delaying my recording.
Everything about the weather right now would be easy to lament. Yet, I’m not lamenting.
A new snowfall is beautiful. One this deep takes the experience to another level. Things aren’t snow-covered. They are unrecognizable.
Instead of flat, our roofs are thick and curved, like the thatched roofs in a country village in England.
The drifts have created mounds and swirls never before seen. My car once cleared and now covered again, looks like some futuristic vision of a driverless vehicle with bulges, curves, and no windows.
It was quiet last night. A rare quiet. No cars, no people, not even the hum of the refrigerator.
And it was light. Even at night, the snow echoed enough light to witness the world.
And so we sat, quiet, illuminated by the crystal reflection, and enjoyed an evening of being powerless.
Or were we?
Quest well
https://www.ramdass.org/ram-dass-on-self-judgement/
Beautiful share David.
If I were a tree, I'd love to be the Molave tree. Strong, sturdy, upright as what our National hero, Manuel Luis Quezon, said in his poem, and I quote some lines," I want our people to grow and be like the molave, strong and resilient, unafraid of the raging flood, the lightning or the storm, confident of its own strength."
As a Filipino, I am full of hope, full of life, strong and never easily gave up to any adversities that ever came up in my life. I always faced and accepted challenges and thankful God has bestowed me the resiliency and faith to do so
David, I think the insights on judgement in the Ram Dass quote are profound.
We naturally and easily accept trees for what they are, and why they are what they are. But we often don't do the same when it comes to people. Why not?
Powerful lesson in there for me. That one will stick with me.
Thank you!