His name was Fani.
He was a large, handsome, muscular man who worked as a labourer on our farm, later on to be the keeper of the store, athletic and someone who was able to understand the need of kids to run wild. We did run wild, my sister and I, down the little pathways with grasses taller than us, kicking the red sandy soil, shouting and behaving badly.
Fani was the one to throw the rope over a branch that hung over the veld, and we were thrilled. As it came coiling down, he caught the other side and made a large knot. Very soon, we were swinging on it wildly in circles, screaming with delight.
Life was good in those days, and we were free. When I look back, we had the feeling we would live like this forever. But the problem lay in the fact that puberty would come and we would face the reality that the world is a dangerous place; people, too, I found, were not always your friends, even though they pretended to be. Growing up was inevitable, and trees, well, they took a place in the background as I grappled with my mind and futile thoughts.
That tree was central to a sense of freedom, liberty and curiosity. It stood tall and majestic on the corner of the property as you turned right and headed for the cottage. Can you fall in love with a tree? I loved it, in a respectful way, the leaves provided shade, and I often headed for it and sat cosied up in its arms whenever melancholia struck. I was silent then, but I allowed the embrace of its branches to speak love and acceptance. I spoke to it as well, and it replied with the sounds of wind through its leaves. It was a wild, old elder statesman, my friend, who would never think of hurting me.
The world became a different place. Religion entered and I divorced myself from nature in order to serve people. I had to deconstruct from that, in order to get back to nature and feel its embrace once again. It’s quiet now, people around me are needy but they pretend not to be. They assume that older people need to be left alone to contemplate mortality.
I’m quite glad as I am often found these days sitting under trees, not in draughty halls and chuch buildings; my elders are the trees, who speak to me about reconnection with the way we were always meant to be.
The sound of the wind blowing through their leaves is the only sound I need right now.
Charles Mercer is a mentor and storyteller who helps individuals adopt new perspectives in life, utilising photography as a tool. His vision is that people increase their creativity to enjoy life more and reap the benefits of a deeper mindset.
Love Always Triumphs In Mindfulness,
Charles (Mercer)
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