What is within?

In the not too distant past, I came across a photo of a tree sculpture by the artist, Giuseppe Penone. He took a large trunk and chipped, carved and cut away, growth layer by growth layer. He worked through these layers down to the tree's earlier, younger self. The resulting sculpture, The Hidden Life Within, is magnificent.

My initial response was to extend this to the Silver and Sugar Maple trees in my backyard. They are not specimen trees, they aren't particularly beautiful. As trees are wont to do, they offer shade, shelter, and a home for some critters. They are just ordinary hardwoods, one even provides an excellent limb to hang a swing. If I could peel away the growth of these two trees, what would I find?

My next leap of thought was to visualize the future of trees I planted fours years or so, a Cathedral Elm and Burled Oak. The Elm has added over a third to its height and girth, the Oak seems content with a much slower maturity. I can contemplate their future, but I know that my imagination is not really inspired enough to visualize their full potential. These simple beings will grow on their own plan, their own response to wind, water, and soil. And with that, The Hidden Life Within passed from thought.

Months past, and then a week or so ago I was asked, "what are you curious about?" Giuseppe's tree sculpture came to mind and a bit of passion arose as I recalled my memory. This went no further, and, as with my original reading, it fading from short-term thought.

Fast forward a few nights, I enjoyed a beer with dinner, a bit later I enjoyed another beer. Not quite satiated, I opened a third. About half-way through that third beer the sculpture popped out of my unconsciousness. But thoughts didn't stop at Giuseppe's carving or my Oak & Elm, my thoughts went straight from the tree sculpture to my children.

I have watched my infants grow into adolescents. If today I squint my mind's eye, I can envision their younger flesh. I can almost see their Hidden Life Within. But just the same, only a bit of their new-born face has remains today. Never in my dreams did I envision what they have become today. And as I gaze upon their adolescence, I can project into the future and get a hint of their potential appearance. But that is just a mental exercise, I know how the male of our species develops, grows, ages.

And, as third beers often do, it brought about another turn of thought, how would my children grow and develop? What kind of men would they become? Would they grow to be craftsmen, professionals, criminals, or leaders? What of their character?

Giuseppe showed me the sapling within the tree. He forced me to contemplate tree, to sapling, to seedling and back. And now, if only I could see from infant, to adolescent, to adult.