Trees and Forests

I was driving the other day — nothing urgent, just moving along — and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the trees that lined the road. Hundreds of beautiful trees.

Then it struck me: that’s a lot of trees. And yet — none of them were the same.

Some were tall and reaching, others were squat and defiant. There were proud oaks, stoic pines, maple trees with outstretched limbs like dancers. Their leaves, though all called “leaves,” were wildly different — shapes, sizes, textures, and shades of green that even Crayola wouldn’t attempt to name.

Their roots were different, too. Some dig deep and wide, some twist, some spread shallow and fast. Some trees need sun. Others thrive in the shadows.

And their needs varied as well. No two trees need the exact same nutrients or physical environment to thrive.

And yet — none of them are confused.
None of them apologize for what they are.
None of them try to be something else.

We see these trees and instinctively understand: They’re different, but they belong together. They’re not supposed to be the same. And they make the world more beautiful because of their differences.

And then a thought occurred to me — why can’t I see people that same way?

Why is it that when it comes to humans, our differences so often divide us?
Skin tones, languages, beliefs, preferences, orientations, neurotypes.
I label, I separate, I rank. I ask people — subtly or outright — to become more like me, to blend, to conform, to make me comfortable. I don’t intend to do this — but I do.

But I’ve never asked a pine tree to be an oak.
Why would I?

I don’t look at a weeping willow and tell it to stand up straighter.
I don’t walk through a forest and feel threatened by its variety.
I don’t accuse the sycamore of being a bit over the top.
I don’t tell the spruce to try harder to be majestic.

I just… let them be.

I let them exist.

And in that existence, they create a living mosaic — one that moves me without asking for anything in return.

I can’t be the only one who does this based on a brief unscientific survey of social media comments. I wonder if “I” is “we” in this case. Let’s assume so.

So, what if we saw each other this way? What if we walked through life like we walked through a forest — in awe of our differences, rather than afraid of it?

What if we stopped asking each other to bend into shapes we were never meant to hold?

Maybe the most human thing we can do… is to remember how to love like a tree: Rooted in self, reaching toward Light, never ashamed to be exactly what we were designed to be.

And maybe — just maybe — the world doesn’t need more sameness. Maybe it needs more forests.

Author’s Note:
This piece grew from a simple roadside observation — and from a growing belief in my heart: That diversity isn’t a flaw in the human experience. It’s the masterpiece. Just as we never ask a pine tree to become an oak, maybe it’s time we stopped asking people to become what they are not. May we learn to walk through the human forest with reverence, awe, and a deep sense of belonging — for ourselves and for each other.