What The Tree Can Teach Us: Tracing Lost Branches

It is always a sunny opportunity to see a tree surrounded with ample leaves developing and turning green and healthy, but some do not survive easily, thus turning yellow and eventually, dying. For the key to long-lasting leaves is a strong and carefully-nourished branch, some branches get torn down, some are not probably taken care of, while some simply just cannot adjust anymore to the change in environment. It is significant to know that these are branches of life; for branches hold firmly onto its past—trunks—and eminently supports its future—leaves.

Juvenescence has always been the original milestone for every human being. It is the stage where we develop our hobbies, realize the world we are living, and altogether, the cornerstone of our nostalgia. Among others, I had a radiant yet humble childhood that has been sculpted by kernels of creativity—music and fine arts. It was my paternal grandmother who influenced most of my nonage—the period when my emptiness had been fed up with recreational activities.

At the tender age of seven, I learned the basics of playing the piano. Among other musical instruments, it was this keyboard wonder that I have mastered and taken priority in. I had this weekly routine of playing at least one new musical piece. I could remember mastering notable  musical compositions such as Frédéric Chopin’s “Minute Waltz,” Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s “Turkish Dance,” and Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer,” all renowned classics that have a complicated playing scheme and difficult to be executed with near perfection harmony. Since then, I have proven to be a talented, fast-learning pianist, according to those who have been witnesses to my performances from the recitals I have attended annually.

While music had a jump-start impact to my “rhythmic” disposition, it was also a sketchy and “geeky-bizarre” escapade that have occupied my childhood pastimes. Fine arts—mostly structural or architectural sketches and medieval-themed drawing—had been the default interest whenever I am bored or plainly stultified. I could reminisce my sketchbooks containing mostly illustrations of castles—its interiors and facade—and mediocre-styled houses. With these activities, I even thought of becoming an architecture in the future!

But then things got tougher and I got busy with “more” important stuff, like academics and writing. Everybody knows how strenuous it is to be in college, and albeit I am a self-proclaimed “jack of all trades,” I cannot do all things I wanted to do; thus, I needed to prioritize according to the needs of my age. Apparently, architectures and musical instruments did not make it to my priority list anymore. Frankly, I just simply miss my childhood hobbies. They used to be more than a stress reliever to me; they had been a passion, where my dreams got founded. Until now, I am hoping that one day to come when I will be free from all the professional-oriented work I am routinely engaged in.


One thought on “What The Tree Can Teach Us: Tracing Lost Branches

  1. The falling of leaves in autumn, and its rebirth in spring has always been amazing to watch, especially here in New England – where large, strong, and mighty trees dot the surroundings. Just like the constant rebirth of leaves, it symbolizes, at least for me, the closing and opening of doors of opportunities. The gradual turning from green, to red, yellow, and then brown. After which, it wilts and falls to the ground. Then the plant hibernates to survive the harsh winter. Once the sun comes up, slowly but surely, the leaves start to grow from beneath the wilted surface. Inch by inch, its newly formed leaves basks in the warm sunlight. Just like the regular clockwork of the changing seasons, life has its own seasons too. We must be always hopeful, as spring always does come after winter.

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