Go Where You've Never Been

Climb a tree

Climbing an old willow tree at Evergreen. I dare not climb any higher at my age! Photo by Rob.

The Dalai Lama said:

Once a year go someplace you’ve never been before.

With the price of fuel zooming all the way up to Mars, going someplace I’ve never been before is going to be difficult this year.

Or is it?

Maybe I’m thinking too big, like driving interstate or flying overseas. Why don’t I go somewhere I’ve never been before in my own back yard?

We have twenty acres so there must be somewhere I’ve never been. I look around for options and end up with only one.

Perhaps I could go up a tree.

I Climb a Tree

Here is a very sad admission: I can’t recall ever climbing a tree.

My mother had strict ideas about how good girls behaved. Climbing a tree was high on the list of items under the heading “Bad Behaviour”. It was almost as immoral as laughing too loudly or eating while standing up. However, her rules are behind me now and I can do whatever I want.

How does a seventy-two-year-old woman climb a tree for the first time in her life?

With trepidation.

I do it while no one is watching except the photographer.

There are many trees to choose from, but I opt for one of the many willows because their branches are low enough for me to climb onto without assistance and strong enough to bear my weight (I hope).

They say humans are modern apes, but there’s nothing fluid, carefree and ape-like about me as I climb. I do use all four limbs, but only one at a time, and move, crab-like and clumsy, up the thick trunk, making sure my grippy running shoes don’t slip on mossy sections of the branch.

I’ve never been so aware of my arms and legs before. Leaves catch in my hair. Dead sticks poke through my clothing. Fearful thoughts of falling flit through my mind. I’m out of my comfort zone. The air is getting thinner. The roof of blue sky is drawing closer. Chances of survival are sliding down to zero. My whole being is on “High Alert”.

How far up a tree does one have to go to be able to claim one has climbed it?

I decide that three metres is far enough because my legs are getting shaky, and I’ve heard that it’s harder coming down than going up.

After hugging a fat branch and looking around at my everyday world from a different perspective for several minutes, I pose for a photo and then, with a 50-50 mixture of reluctance and eagerness, head back down to earth.

When I finally reach the ground, a pattern of willow bark is imprinted on my palms, the seat of my jeans is besmirched with bright green moss and I feel like I’ve just come back from a far-off land of wondrous sights.

Don’t pack a suitcase and head overseas.

Go up a tree in your own back yard.

But take your mobile, in case you need to call for help to get down!

With love, Marlane