What we can learn from trees | 5 minute read

Happy Sunday. Don’t you love fall? The colours of the trees make me want to stare at them all day. The smell, the temperature — I feel super connected to it all.

We’re a forest

A friend from afar sent me a story about people who connect more with their devices than each other.

Here at Saving Sundays, we’ve written about connection before:

• Jon wrote about people in the blue zones and IRL happiness, and about how to hike up your happiness.

• Justin wrote about human connections making him happier.

• I wrote about Japanese words like Shinrin-Yoku or forest bathing that brings happiness.

Today, I’m super connecting them.

In The Hidden Life of Trees, author Peter Wohlleben writes that trees are only as strong as the forest around them. Through their roots, they share water and nutrients, keeping weaker trees alive. They understand instinctively that if one falls, the ecosystem suffers — a significant counterpoint to our cultural obsessions with independence and optimization.

Trees care for each other's well-being and flourish in communities.

When a tree has deep, healthy, interconnected roots, it has the physical and social security to grow and flourish.

With our networks — family, friends, and community — we, too, thrive.

The book brought to life our profound and universal need to belong—to be part of something greater than ourselves.

Unfortunately, our modern paradox is that "everyone wants a village, but no one wants to be a villager."

We want a strong community that supports one another, but we're not willing to put in the effort or make the sacrifices.

As my kids might say, fundraising for their communities that only stand to benefit them, "it's annoying."

Being annoyed is the price we pay for connection and community.

Being annoyed can look like:

• Sharing space when it's inconvenient: My son is sharing space with friends for a sleepover this weekend. In turn, he’ll be invited to sleepovers at their house and my wife and I may get time to ourselves.

• Showing up when you'd rather stay home: It's so pervasive that a friend of mine has coined the term "pre-bail," where you pre-emptively say you won't be there, regardless of your availability. Just go, you’ll at worst have an OK time.

• Hosting when you're tired: I met a gentleman for coffee who belongs to a documentary club for 22 members. Once every two years, you host a lavish affair. You pay and prepare the multi-course meal, the booze, you make a speech, you play the movie and you benefit until it’s your turn again.

There's something about modern life. Maybe the overscheduling, maybe the exhaustion, but we always seem to have an easy excuse at hand.

But then months pass — no dinners, no visitors, no laughter from the kitchen parties (I recently said no to an invitation to play board games, it had been a long day).

At some point, our instinct to avoid discomfort turned into a strong desire for independence; setting strict boundaries, sticking to perfect routines, and avoiding interruptions. These boundaries can become walls and we sit and wonder why we feel so lonely.

The pebble

The whole time I’ve been writing this, I’ve had Broken Social Scene’s song Superconnected in my head. Enjoy.

The challenge

Phone a friend.

Who’s in your forest? What are the roots that nourish your growth? What are the systems and networks that support you? Call them. They’re just as lonely. My best and longest-standing friend will sometimes call me on his hour-long commute home. And when I’m sometimes available, we don’t hang up until he’s pulling into his driveway.