I looked around to see who was talking, but no one was
there.
“Attention!
Attention!”
And again, no one was there.
“A is for attention!"
boomed the voice.
And there it was on the ground. The tree roots had formed a very large and
perfect “A,” well, as perfect as tree roots can form letters, anyway.
 |
| Tree alphabet. |
“A is for attention,
for choosing an item or a task or an idea and focusing on it,” said the tree.
“You have my attention,” I answered.
“Good, see that it continues. Do not allow yourself to be easily distracted
with those flashing screens and silly devices most human carry.”
“A is also for awareness,”
he said, “for being in tune with your environment and not missing important
details.”
“I am always aware.”
“Are you?” the tree asked. “How is it, then, that I had to yell for your
attention?”
He didn’t wait for my answer, which is okay because I
didn’t have one anyway, probably because a bee would not stop buzzing in my
ear.
“A is for ability,
for honing and working hard at your skills and then confidently using them with
authority and grace.”
“I have worked very hard at my skills,” I said, becoming
a bit perturbed.
“Work harder at your listening skills.” Buzz went the bee again in my ear.
“A is for altruism,
for being kind to and concerned about others, regardless of what they can or
cannot do for you,” he said.
“I do my best to be kind, but sometimes people see that
as a weakness and try to take advantage of me,” I offered.
“Of course, they do.
That is part of human nature for some, but it means that you are astute.
A is for astuteness, for
accurately assessing the intentions of others and using that to your benefit.”
Buzz said the bee.
“A is for admirable,
for behaving in a manner that is upright and decent and thereby earning the
respect and approval of others.”
“I do my best to follow my own moral code,” I said.
“See to it that you never waiver,” he said, “because once you do, you fall in the eyes of others and then in your own eyes as well. Once lost, honor is hard to regain.” Buzz.
“See to it that you never waiver,” he said, “because once you do, you fall in the eyes of others and then in your own eyes as well. Once lost, honor is hard to regain.” Buzz.
“A is for ardent,
the ability to be intensely fervent about a cause, about your beliefs,” he
bellowed. “For without passion we have
nothing. Without wholehearted dedication
and loyalty, we drift in a sea of mediocrity and unfeeling selfishness.”
“I am strong in my convictions,” I said almost angrily.
“I believe you. See
to it that you do not surrender. Never
give in to exhaustion or fear or manipulation.”
Buzz said the bee, as I swatted him impatiently.
“A is for authenticity,”
he said almost menacingly as one of his roots tapped me on the foot. “See to it that you remain true to your
ideals and yourself even in the face of mockery and pain and humiliation. Should a thousand warriors come up against
you, stand your ground and remain true to who you are, even if you take it to
the grave that very day.”
Powerful words, I thought to myself. But yes, I must remain authentic. Anything else would be the unrelieved
awfulness of mediocrity and self-serving vanity.
“Yes!” I yelled.
“I am and will remain authentic!” I surprised myself a bit with my sudden
outburst, but the tree seemed pleased.
Buzz, buzz, said the bee.
“You may go,” he said dismissively.
“That’s it? We’re
done now?!”
“I haven’t got all day.
It is time for the next act.”
“Well what about ‘B,’”
I asked.
“What about it?
Ask him yourself. I must bid you adieu.”
“Buzz,” said the bee.
It was then I realized it was going to be a very long hike, indeed. I tightened the straps on my pack, and the
bee buzzed along with me on my journey.
