A bird lands on the upmost branch of the Pechanga Oak Tree. The hatchling not yet a year, sits upon two-thousand years of life.
“Let me sing you a tune in exchange for wisdom, for you have no song and I have no sophistication.” The tree respired the passing breeze and answered the young life, “Sing!”
The bird whistled its softest tune, as the tree listened.
When the tune came to completion, the tree asked, “What do you seek?” The young bird had not planned this far. “Who are you?” he blurted out in embarrassment.
“I AM life in the form of tree.” Was his reply.
“No, no, no,” said the bird. “Who are you? What do you do? Who are your friends and family?”
“I AM none of those things,” replied the tree. “I AM life in the form of tree.”
“But you are the famous Pachanga Oak! You have watched two thousand years of history unfold before you!”
“I have heard others use such language to refer to me,” said the tree. “But that is not my nature. I AM life in the form of tree.”
The bird flew to a lower branch within the canopy of leaves. “I don’t mean to argue”, said the bird, “but you clearly do not understand. What do you like, what do you love to do? What is it that separates you from other trees in this grove? What makes you, you?”
“Little one,” smiled the tree embracing the bird within him, “I answer you in truth, I AM life in the form of tree, and I am not separate from the trees in the grove. We are one, as you and I are one, for I do not lack your song and you do not lack my sophistication. WE ARE life in separate form, but WE ARE one beneath that disguise.”
The bird looked at the tree in pity. “Age has got the best of you, sir, I am truly sorry for your delusion.”
The wisdom of youth is to be humble, and wisdom of the old is novice. Age is but a hatchling in the world of wisdom.
I was not born into the world, I was born out of it like a wave in the ocean. One day my life will age and end, and I will return home to life before form. I AM.