Systems: When a Tree Falls...

And we're back to answer the contradictory and rather complicated questions that systems introduce.

Is there a start or finish? Yes? But no? You could say Split's system finished, but he's starting again...so...

Is the system simple or complicated? Yes? Not sure you could call Exi anything except complicated, though I do appreciate his love for symmetry, a thing that makes almost everything feel a little simpler.

How big is the system really? Undefined. I'd say Alii's tree system ended, but her decomposing, decaying system began. Was that part of the tree system all along, or is it a completely separate system?

And, if we're looking at this as systems art--what is the most beautiful part of this system? That's an easy one to answer. All of it. I won't deny that a well-structured, healthy tree is a thing of beauty. I hope you won't deny that the simple geometry of Alii's core, the oddly symmetrical balance of life and death in Exi's branches, and the indomitable life springing from Split's roots are beautiful too. Perhaps more beautiful because their very unexpected appearance makes us pause and ask important questions.

Why? It's simple really. It's not always pleasant, in fact, it's usually not, but I've discovered that the most valuable and inspiring works of art are the ones created from hard circumstances. The most ingenious ideas are formed when you're out of options, down on your luck, out of funds, losing sleep, missing materials, or running out of time. As I like to say, "Art is an accident with the right perspective." I've stumbled upon great works of art. I've never intentionally made them. My favorite pieces (in art and in life) are the ones I never saw coming. The art projects I plan out and envision ahead of time are inherently boring, safe, and uninspiring. The ones that come from a life cut short, unplanned illness, or when I'm pulled in a million directions, lacking confidence and barely scraping by are the ones that I treasure for years to come. 

In those moments it's almost impossible to see the system for what it really is. I get so focused on the here and now that I forget the system is a lot bigger than I am. I forget that even if my life (as I thought it should be) ends, it isn't really over. Some other system begins whenever the current system runs out. Maybe I'm no longer part of the growing tree system, but perhaps I'm like Alii and my decaying system will take me through transformations and changes that bring out unimaginable beauty I never knew I had.

Because while I'd love to say that I understand systems, I really don't. The more I think about the water cycle--the system that takes water from mist to cloud to raindrop to drinking water to ocean water to mist to cloud--the less I comprehend it. It is so incredibly enormous, all-encompassing, and intricate that I can't begin to actually fathom how that system functions year after year, century after century. I might be able to see it, but my heart still stands in awe. Same with the trees. Each and every tree with its unique system and story all around the world all throughout the centuries. Tree after tree and not a single one repeats. Ever. They all have their own stories, their own appearances, their own systems. And each one is a thing of beauty. I might be able to see that, but my heart still can't understand it. 

Lost in my own world of problems I get so focused on my system, my world, my life, my ending, my complicatedness, that I stop seeing, stop hearing, and stop believing in the God whose love made it all possible in the first place. When I lose sight of the systems--all the systems--any ending feels final. Everything feels complex. I find myself floundering, unable to start again. I feel small and inadequate in the face of insurmountable obstacles. And so I fight, I kick, I refuse. I try to control or change my system. I try to force a certain outcome because I want my life to turn out a certain way. 

I'm sure you've heard the old adage or riddle (whatever it is) that asks--If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

That ridiculous question is a classic example of redirection in an attempt to avoid the real issue. What we should be asking is, when a tree falls in the forest (a clear disruption to the tree growing system), what happens? It's simple. Oh, so simple, but I couldn't see it until I came upon this tree. Fallen completely over the path, shattered and severed from its roots, soon to lose all the life and green and grandeur it possessed. And yet, already becoming home and shelter to other plants, allowing for smaller trees to take its place, providing a home for wood lice and insects. Unexpectedly beautiful.

When a tree falls...life goes on.

Not as it was before. Never the same again. Yet no less beautiful, meaningful, or important. A hard break to be sure, but a smooth transition into the next system. An opportunity to discover what art this latest accident is sure to produce. 

Life is full of hard breaks and we humans are less than skilled at smooth transitions. But, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear, maybe we'll come to understand the things (the changes, the lessons, the growth, and the beauty) that God has prepared for us regardless of the system we are currently in. 

Part 5: Systems: One Step Closer to Nowhere coming July 10, 2022.