Have you noticed that when you enter a forest, you want to speak in whispers? Unconsciously you’re aware of a sacredness of the place; of life cycles easily as old as five, even six generations of our families, decendents of trees that saw the rise of the clans, the formation, fall and rebuilding of a county, countless joys and sorrows of the daily lives of humans.
Through time and centuries, the life of a tree has always been defined by the seasons it has survived. This passing of years and transition from winter and back marks not only the external look of the tree but its heart. Cut it through and you can mark its life story in its rings. The strength of the tree can also be witnessed in the spread of its branches, the fruit of its limbs and saplings that are sheltered beneath its canopy.
A unit can be easily compared to this tree, this sacred oak. In its youth it’s fighting for a place in the forest. It grows frantically in its desire to stretch roots to the deepest water source and rise to the sun. In those first years the goal is to grow in size, but not necessarily in strength. Survival is the only focus.
Once the unit is established and has claimed its piece of Earth it must refocus on strengthening itself for time immeasurable, on developing a solid core. At this stage its common for those first, weak branches to be shed while the central branches stretch higher and sprout their own secondary branches. The unit, as the tree, fills out and spreads from the base of its own history.
Only time can determine if the unit will find it’s place in the grove, if it will grow from its own foundations and shelter the new trees it spawns or if it will fall and feed the other trees standing near. Only the most successful of the units will be like the sacred tree, standing alone but not alone, tall amidst the other sacred trees with branches intertwined.