"Growing Out: A honey locust tale"
By alexis voisard
"Stand up straight and realize who you are, that you tower over your circumstances"
- Maya Angelou
- Maya Angelou
From birth I have already grown up. I was born with all the wisdom I will ever acquire. From my ancestors I have the blueprints to live a perfect life, equipped with the skills to face any challenge. I have already grown up, but growing out is the challenge my ancestors cannot promise.
Though I am not alone they tell me, as I stretch down into the fertile bed of nutrients. Water fuels my cells, energizing my growth exponentially. I am too fragile to break the surface, so I listen to the wisdom. But how do I grow out if I must grow down? It tells me to give in to that throbbing pull of gravity, to wait for that break above the surface. They tell me to wait for the light. Though I've never seen light, I see its exchange all around me. These roots are constantly exchanging carbon for water and other nutrients. I feel these networks all around me, but gravity is too loud. My ancestors say I will have to learn to balance both forces, but I must first accept gravity. It takes a great deal of focus; gravity is always there but I learn to accept its dominance while I extend my roots. |
Water fuels this reach, but the more water I absorb, the greater my reach extends. I have no carbon to offer the fungal networks around me, so I keep reaching until my cells burst with one great shoot. By now my shoot allows me to challenge the gravity my ancestors have encouraged me to depend on. I can push through the soil as I feel a new pull towards the surface, a force as strong as gravity. Just before I break the surface, I feel a new resurgence of activity. I will always extend below, but now I face two worlds that I must share with others. Two worlds that are inextricably linked, I now enter the world where growing up does not guarantee I grow out. This world is less forgiving, and the wisdom tells me that I must listen to all the forces, all the light, all the gravity, all the senses in my ancestral intuition in order to grow out.
So I listen to the light, and my cells exchange that carbon I had only seen underground for my own now. For a while I strain to find the light that peeks through holes in the large canopy above. I want carbon so badly, so I give in to the intersections of fungal roots below who willingly pump surges of carbon into my cells. I am thankful for these networks, as the ancestors advise that I cannot live without them. Growing out becomes easier as I learn about my neighbors. Some of my neighbors have roots like mine. Others are not grounded in the same soil and only know the world above. They come in all shapes and sizes. I am not afraid of them, but the wisdom always keeps me alert, ready to grow special features against creatures I have yet to meet. They tell me it is my greatest strength, but I must grow out with several layers of protection first. I want to know what this strength is, but they tell me it is only activated when stressed. Do I want to meet this stress? Will I ever grow out to meet this stress?
I am several feet tall now. There are other saplings like me, but I'm growing faster than any of them. My ancestors, along with the help of the networks below, have helped me flourish. The world above is so different. Creatures around me that aren't grounded in the soil climb my neighbors for resources and rummage around the nearby creek. I know from the wisdom that I will produce such resources one day, but that day isn't guaranteed. Yet it may lead me to develop that greatest strength. Just need to grow out a few years as long as I continue to listen to all the forces that guide my growth. Many old neighbors with greater roots than mine dominate the sky above, so I always have to find the light and stretch my leaves accordingly.
I am several feet tall now. There are other saplings like me, but I'm growing faster than any of them. My ancestors, along with the help of the networks below, have helped me flourish. The world above is so different. Creatures around me that aren't grounded in the soil climb my neighbors for resources and rummage around the nearby creek. I know from the wisdom that I will produce such resources one day, but that day isn't guaranteed. Yet it may lead me to develop that greatest strength. Just need to grow out a few years as long as I continue to listen to all the forces that guide my growth. Many old neighbors with greater roots than mine dominate the sky above, so I always have to find the light and stretch my leaves accordingly.
Soon I begin to form my own canopy amid the immense one above me. I've never felt more rooted, and I now constantly engage with the networks below now that I have carbon to share with the fungi. Although the wisdom has taught me to keep some for myself. I can feel in my cells a new sense of production besides the branches and leafs I've created so far, along with the urgency to expend my energy for future saplings. I remember growing as a pod. I fell to the ground once the air felt crisp and the ground less saturated. A small creature found me and I passed through a world much different than the above and below, but once I emerged I shed so many layers, accepting and welcoming the vulnerability to ground myself until I was ready to emerge again. Only through this creature did I find the right conditions to grow out as I do now, so I am ready to produce the very pods I came from.
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The stresses begin that warm summer I produce pods of my own. I notice more creatures climbing my base and taking the pods for themselves. I know they are important for pods to grow as I did, but they are not careful when they climb. Some of the larger creatures are not only attracted to my pods, but the hard shell I've created to protect the currents of nutrients that flow in my entire body. It weakens my base, but the networks below are quick to revitalize my first stress. Is this the stress my ancestors so warned me? I listen to the wisdom for answers, but I don't feel a change like I did when I produced my first pods. I survive my first stress, but they increase as I grow out, so I grow taller and spread higher. I can't help the sweet scent that my cells produce with the pods, so I extend the hard shell that protects my base to my pods.
Several layers of growth later I meet the stress that my ancestors so gravely warned me. Creatures as giant as the neighbors around me trample bodies like mine. I'm not ready to fall yet. I've worked so hard to grow out to where I am now, but the stress signals are so overwhelming. They are almost louder than the forces of light and gravity that I am forced to focus on how I can respond. Standing still will do me no good, so I respond to the chilling signals in my own cells and begin a new production. The stress signals force new protrusions unlike any branch or leaf I have created. As they begin to pierce through my protective shell in groups of three, I remember my first stress, the creature who broke my protective shell. I begin production there, and extend the thorns to every limb of my body. I feel the urge to harden these protrusions and spread them everywhere. What if the giant creatures trample before I have time to gather the protection I need? But I already have the answers I need, for the wisdom always values listening to all forces.
Several layers of growth later I meet the stress that my ancestors so gravely warned me. Creatures as giant as the neighbors around me trample bodies like mine. I'm not ready to fall yet. I've worked so hard to grow out to where I am now, but the stress signals are so overwhelming. They are almost louder than the forces of light and gravity that I am forced to focus on how I can respond. Standing still will do me no good, so I respond to the chilling signals in my own cells and begin a new production. The stress signals force new protrusions unlike any branch or leaf I have created. As they begin to pierce through my protective shell in groups of three, I remember my first stress, the creature who broke my protective shell. I begin production there, and extend the thorns to every limb of my body. I feel the urge to harden these protrusions and spread them everywhere. What if the giant creatures trample before I have time to gather the protection I need? But I already have the answers I need, for the wisdom always values listening to all forces.
So I wait for the forces I cannot control, the ones my ancestors warned that would unleash my greatest strength. I've grown out this far, made my own place with the world around me. The distress signals are still loudly throbbing, and I've dedicated my reserves to producing the thorns that will protect me. I finally meet the giant creatures in another season when the air is crisp again and the soil is less saturated. They travel in groups and browse through my neighbors and the ground looking for resources. I've spent so much growth preparing for this great stress that I've inherently developed the signals ready to send to end my time. The wisdom says I'm always ready to send these signals, but I've prepared regardless of the outcome. A youngling approaches me first. My dried, leathery pods allure the youngling's trunk to search my base, but it cries out and immediately retreats when it reaches my thorns first. A bigger one hears the youngling, and it stomps toward me. I am much taller than this giant now, but this one investigates my base only to arrive at the same conclusion, without the naive cries of its child. It searches the ground instead for some of the pods I let go, and I avoid the trampling that sealed the fate of my neighbors.
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My protection worked this time, and I am filled with pride, boasting more thorns along my base to prevent more encounters. But my ancestors are wise to remind me that I am still growing out and susceptible to other stresses. Now that I've developed my greatest strength, I feel complete. I am whole as the networks that have fueled my growth thus far. Whole as the forces that I've learned to accept. Whole as the balance that I offer to my neighbors and beyond. Whole as the generations that will carry my wisdom onward.
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