Killing Trees

A tree is a sacred symbol for growth, roots, life above and below. We cut them down and make paper out of these sacred giants.

I work in a job where pushing paper is my biggest task. Lots of paper. I shred the equivalent of a ream of paper every two to three weeks. Data in, data out…must protect that privacy! If the paper has a name on it, it must be filed or shredded. I pretend the shredded paper goes to a company that specializes in making beautiful handmade writing paper. I’d be happy if it were made into toilet paper. I doubt either happens.

We humans are so wasteful.

School enrollment time. I estimate there are 20-30 pages of paper I must fill out and submit in order for my children to attend the same school they’ve always attended.

Wasteful.

Repetitive.

What a shame.

I got a thick envelope in the mail from my soon-to-be neurosurgeon. More papers to fill out and bring with me to the appointment, just to be scanned into their medical database and then shredded.

I’m sorry for the trees that have died just to be turned in to paper, written on, discarded or shredded, recycled or not. Waste.

Humans suck.

Have you ever met a tree? Sat in it’s shade? Listened to the song it makes with every creaking branch and waving leaf? Met the flora and fauna that calls that tree home? Have you ever climbed a tree or made a swing and swung from that tree? Smelled the sweet sap in the summer heat?

I have.

I grieve the waste. Every paper, post-it note, shred comprised of that tree is grieved. I’m sorry humans are such assholes, Trees. Maybe if more people knew trees, they would consider this. But, knowing humans as I do, they still wouldn’t give a shit.

Today I am grateful for the trees I have known. The blossoms and buds and various leaves. The smell and sound of quaking aspen in the high country, the fragrance of ponderosa pine in late summer, the sturdy and victorious elm, the abundant cottonwood. The clubhouses I have played in, the apples I have picked, the tire swing I so enjoyed. I took time to know those trees and my life is richer for it.

Thank you, trees.