27 02 2008

There is a tree that confuses me.

I don’t know the name, genus, species, or anything about it, but what amazes me is not that I don’t know what type of tree it is (I’ve cleverly called it Tito), but how kind this tree is. Now wait, WTF, kind? Like kind, “I’m going to help this old lady with her bags,” kind? Well no. I guess I mean humble. Yeah, humble. Scratch kind. Tito is not kind, Tito is humble.

Tito has paper-thin skin that rips off. Of course, Tito is a tree, and his bark must serve some purpose, although that purpose is beyond me. Since I don’t understand the biological benefits peeling bark, he confuses me.

In my head, Tito is giving as much of his life up as the world wants. If I rip a piece off, he doesn’t complain, if a squirrel comes by and does the same, Tito is still just there, not caring how much we are taking, not even thinking about how much he is giving. If all his bark was ripped off, and he became a nothing, Tito still would not care. He can give up his protection, his life for nothing in return.

Can you?