Do we have the right not to play with and bend each other?
By Odell Sneeden Hathaway, III
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Copyright © 1984 By Odell Sneeden Hathaway, III (Comments on the poem "Birches," by Robert Frost,) The boy who bends down the tree did not set out to conquer them. Never would the idea of hurting them come to him. It was not a job or a task. Each tree was new and different. No rules. Just feeling. There was something in the boy, that when he passed a tree needed to reach out and touch that tree. This is the true meaning of play: acting with out thought -- not like playing chess. Most people do not even "play" music; they recreate notes. Few allow themselves to flow into their instrument, not knowing what will come out until the moment of playing. But this little boy passing a tree goes with the flow of life which through him plays with the tree. In the same way, each of us should play with each other! We live in a world where we are afraid to play. Each of us becomes rigid and stiff. When the ice builds up, we break. If only there were more little boys to bend us until the stiffness is out of us, gently and with care. If only we were all trees and boys, letting what is in us grow. Playing is the answer to the call of God!
A Birch in my back yard bent to the ground after ice storm in 2004. It is still bent like this today. |
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Even on the NET I can't spell Tree, updated