In Ghent, only a few hundred meters from the Sint-Pieters train station, stands a tree. Not an exceptionally large, small or thick tree; not a tree that you would pick out because it's a peculiar looking tree.
The thing about this tree is that, now that every other tree in the street and the trees in the square in front of the station bare their branches, this tree still voluptuously waves in the wind showing no yellow, orange, brown or red leaves scarred by the passing of fall. Instead, it boasts a lush dome of green leaves, nurtured by the branches they belong to.
It's difficult to notice this particular tree standing right in the middle of the side walk, surrounded by cars, a trash can and bikes casually placed against its bark. But when I passed it one particular day, its image got stuck in my head.
I realized that this wonder of nature does not seem to rely on what's happening outside of its world of Being, nor that its aliveness seem to entirely depend on its environment, even though its surrender to the cycle of things is inevitable.
This tree stands in its power, radiant of life yet with no ambition other than being, from moment to moment, seemingly enjoying going unnoticed by many.
.. except for an occasional pedestrian, just like me that particular day..