Imagine you’re a tree. I’ve not been to a mindfulness class, but I’m aware that this is one of the standard exercises, or at least common enough to have become a stereotype*. I’d like to challenge the fundamental premise though because, when you think about it more closely, being a tree is not particularly relaxing.
Consider the life of an average tree. At any given moment its leafy tissues are being assailed by herbivores, while its woody parts are forever at risk of attack from a range of fungal pathogens. Below ground it doesn’t get any easier — parasitic nematodes swarm its roots. The life of a tree is one of being constantly eaten alive.
Meanwhile the tree is engaged in complex trading relationship with a range of mycorrhizal fungi with their own separate interests. Through these it exchanges hard-won carbon for nutrients, which it decides how to invest to meet its short- and long-term goals. The immediate aim is to survive, making defences crucial, but it can’t neglect growth, otherwise its competitors will swiftly crowd it out. And it has to have some left over at the end to produce flowers and fruits. Reproduction is costly; pollinators won’t visit without some nectar to draw them in, and seed dispersers expect a reward for carrying fruits around. You always have to pay the couriers.
Are you sure you want to be a tree now? It’s not all about swaying in the breeze, feeling the warm sunlight on your leaves, and focussing on your inner strength. That sunlight needs to be converted into cold, hard carbohydrate-based currency, and there’s a lot of business to be done before winter (or dry season) cuts you short. You need to make enough to live off your savings for a large part of the year. And even trees don’t live forever — you’re only one storm, wildfire or beaver away from being struck out of the game.
Just thinking about it is making me stressed. So let’s take another viewpoint — what would a tree make of our human lives?
They might be quite jealous. We spend large amounts of time sitting down in front of glowing rectangles, which provide us with a surplus of resources to spend on leisure activities and relaxation. We barely have any parasites at all. If we want to mate, we get to choose our own, and can move directly to them. There’s no need to barter with insects, or release our hopes into the breeze. We actually get to meet our offspring, and know that they succeeded. Best of all, if we need food, we just steal it from a plant that went through all the actual effort of making it.
In short, being human doesn’t sound that bad after all. I feel much better about it now. Who’d be a tree?
* In poking fun at the tree exercise I’m not seeking trivialise the value of mindfulness. Workplace stress is recognised as a health concern by the WHO, and everyone should educate themselves on how to support their own mental health as well as that of colleagues and employees. Nevertheless, reducing the risks of mental illness depends on identifying and dealing with the root causes; stress management exercises can help but they’re not enough on their own.