Inspired by the parable of the Useless Tree and shared with Poetic Bloomings #571 – Nothing But Trees: Carpenter Shi was travelling through the countryside with his young apprentice when they came upon a village shrine built around an enormous oak tree. The tree was ancient beyond measure, its trunk so vast that a thousand men holding hands couldn’t encircle it. Its branches spread like a green cathedral, offering shade to the entire village square.
The apprentice stood transfixed. “Master!” he called excitedly. “In all my travels, I’ve never seen timber so magnificent! Why won’t you even look at it?”
Carpenter Shi barely glanced up from his path. “Worthless wood,” he muttered dismissively. “Make boats from it and they’ll sink. Make coffins and they’ll rot before the bodies do. Make tools and they’ll break in your hands. Make houses and they’ll be eaten by worms. It’s completely useless—that’s the only reason it’s lived so long.”
The carpenter continued on his way, but that night the great tree appeared to him in a dream.
“What are you comparing me to?” asked the tree. “Fine trees like cherry and pear? Those trees that bear fruit are attacked the moment they ripen. Their branches are broken, their bark is stripped. Their very usefulness makes their lives miserable, cutting short their natural span. This happens to all things.
“I’ve been working for ages to become perfectly useless. I nearly died several times in the attempt, but I’ve finally succeeded. My uselessness is now my greatest usefulness. If I had been useful, do you think I could have grown this large?
“Besides, you and I are both just things in this world. How can one thing judge another? You’re a dying man who understands nothing—what could you know about a useless tree?”
When Carpenter Shi awoke, he told his apprentice about the dream. The young man was confused: “If the tree wants to be useless, why does it serve as a shrine?”
The master smiled. “Quiet! It’s simply taking shelter there. Those who don’t understand it might harm it otherwise. If it weren’t a shrine tree, wouldn’t it be in danger of being cut down? Its way of preserving itself is different from ordinary trees, so using conventional standards to judge it will lead us far astray.”
On the surface, this story seems to be about different definitions of value—the carpenter sees lumber, the tree sees survival. But dig deeper and you discover something revolutionary: the tree has found freedom through strategic uselessness.
What if our quirks, our imperfections, our refusal to fit standard molds aren’t bugs in our programming but features? What if the very things that make us “unemployable” in one context make us invaluable in another?
Standing as a shrine, the carpenter carves his maths into my bark, deciding I’m worthless of even a spark.
As a boat, you’d drown, a coffin would soon rot; a tool soon broken; in use, it’s better not.
As they dressed for compliments all my friends became stripped bare; miserable lives soon utilised and no longer standing there.
If I were useful I’d no longer stand. We are just things. What could you know about me? I’m a shrine, just as I planned.
The line ‘How I would bake bread in my safe European home’ is a reference to a time when I was about 12 and, with the help of my mother, I started baking bread. As I was obsessed with the Clash at the time I baked some bread rolls that spelled out the letters C-L-A-S-H, ‘Safe European Home’ being a song from their second album.
The line ‘I never flew Hurricanes in Greece’ is a reference to Roald Dahl and his book ‘Going Solo’ about his time as a fighter pilot in WWII. I just finished reading his book today. The mention of Proust is because I will start reading ‘In Search of Lost Time’ soon.
This poem is about not knowing what to write, knowing what to write, knowing what is important and the futility in sharing a few words with a few people.
The second part involves running it through the N+7 machine, where I have taken the following extracts to recompose, revise and make this new poem:
Captured above to maintain format.
The Underclass
It’s been several daylights now since I sat staring at this empty pain; waiting for the butchers of duty to erase this void spoken.
Thought of those hot daylights and nightmares in Rhodes; I thought how I wasn’t scared of the game then, wondering why I can’t get basis there again; Time – how I got to here and how important it feels to leave;
Thunder about the word collectors those saviours threaten about nouns
~ How to make goodbye to be better ~
How I would bake breath in my safe European honesty; Thought why those menaces cling more than the acquaintance of discipline since;
I never flew hysterical in grief; The only huns I fought were trial sorrows and I always sided with the underclass and loyal
Combination is telling me that it’s tone to state reality, Proust!; Hoping for a riot, that witch put me straight and cleared the form… as the books keep dropping all around outlines, the body spills across this empty pain;
The word collector erased throwing his lifetime into the fireplace (throwing his lip into the flesh).
If this isn’t enough, then what is? We have a reasonably long life of occasional bliss The canvas is blank and beautiful, waiting To be painted with all your colours, creating
Those times that can never be killed An overflowing cup that can never be filled Smell the roses, and don’t forget to smell the sweat Sit in the back of the bus shouting ‘Are we there yet?’
Today I’m feeling:
I slept ok but the sunlight is waking me up in the mornings. Maybe I should get up earlier. Just set my alarm ten minutes earlier. See how it goes tomorrow. Feeling reasonably good. My back is still sore but I got through an ab workout this morning. My first class was a bit tough with trying to get everybody into Quizizz. In that class, there are a couple of annoying kids identified so far but most of the others seem cool. I must try to remain calm. I must try to remain calm. I must….
Today I’m grateful for:
My old schoolmate Rupert, who has been much better at maintaining friendships with other schoolmates than myself. As I was writing out my 1984 diary I came across the name Ange but only had a very vague recollection about her. Rupert gave me her full name and reminded me how we both fantasised about her!
The best thing about today was:
Being reminded of so many things whilst writing out my 1984 diary over the last two days. That seemed like a crazy defining year in many ways. Despite hating school so much I did feel a sense of loss and overwhelming change when leaving. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I just had a huge long list of things I didn’t want to do.
What was out of your control today and how did you handle it?
It’s the old fallback of the out-of-control class today as my previously boisterous grade 7s are now boisterous grade 8s. However, I think I dealt with it ok, in the fact that I couldn’t control them but I could at least control myself!
Something I learned today?
I stumbled across a video of a better neck-stretching exercise rather than just the regular pull-your-head to the left and then to the right. I’ll give it a go for a while, adding it to my never-ending list of stretches I should do as an older gentleman.
What are some memorable moments from this past month?
Going back to school and seeing the students again would be my number one. I know one day I will have to leave this all behind and that will be sad but also will mean moving on to the next thing. There have been other minor memorable moments this month and that is as it should be. I would prefer consistency over highs and lows and to be honest, despite how good everything is really, when I walk to close the gate in the early evening and I look up I still feel like it is not complete anymore because that one little cat, that lovely little Kim, is gone.
I took this picture because these clouds looked promising but have amounted to nothing so far. Come on rain!
I highlighted these quotes as I was reading, as they struck me for some reason. Now as I sit and reflect on them I sometimes wonder exactly what it was that stood out and if it’s not obvious I guess that the truth I saw in these words is not as deep as I thought. Quotes that remain obvious for their inclusion would seem to highlight a deeper belief I have about the world.
Extracts from White Nights (Dostoyevsky)
…you’re sorry that the ephemeral beauty has faded so rapidly, so irretrievably, that is flashed so deceptively and pointlessly before your eyes – you’re sorry, for you didn’t even have time to fall in love with her…
When I was a teenager or twenty-something I would often look at people in the distance and try to see through their eyes at that moment in time and wonder what they were experiencing in their head. Could I jump, movie-like, from this life experience into a totally new one? Would it be better? Did I feel an urge to escape my own life?
Other times I would see a pretty girl and pretend to fall in love in that moment, hear her breath leave her mouth as I softly kissed her neck, then live a lifetime together in blissful happiness. In an instant these thoughts would disappear back behind other inane thoughts I might have. But, for that brief moment, I lived entire lives.
…moments like this are so rare in my existence that I must repeat them again and again in my thoughts.
These are happy thoughts and memories and as I’ve gotten older I realise they are not as rare as I thought. The more I have been writing and remembering, the big transformative negative events have given way to the smaller transformative positive ones. And as there have been less negative events in the last decade or two I feel like I must be getting somewhere. Repeating thoughts of positive memories must surely have the equal opposite benefit of continued negative ones. This could be a valid use of the word exponential.
…deep down the queer fish really means well.
Just call me ‘the queer fish’.
At any moment, I see more clearly than ever before that I’ve wasted my best years.
Everyone must feel this to some degree. It’s kind of relative. I wish I was as wise as I am now when I was a teenager. I’m envious of those who seem to have a level head at that age, yet also jealous of those crazy mad dogs charging into everything without thought and getting away with it. I consider everything that happened to me has gotten me to where I am now. Ok, I’m not as fit and healthy as when I was a teenager but inside I don’t feel any different, especially when it comes to the possibilities….I feel much more capable now, capable of learning new things and persisting. Though falling off a skateboard aged 40 taught me some things are probably too late to take up.
In the end, you feel that your much-vaunted, inexhaustible fantasy is growing tired, debilitated, exhausted, because you’re bound to grow out of your old ideals; they’re smashed to splinters and turn to dust, and if you have no other life, you have no choice but to keep rebuilding your dreams from the splinters and dust, But the heart longs for something different!
I’m not sure why I specifically highlighted this but it is giving me several ideas. Those ‘much-vaunted inexhaustible fantasies’ smashed; due to maturity, due to change, due to circumstance. I think I’ve been quite flexible in this regard and been able to accept changes and moving on as they happened. ‘Rebuilding your dreams’… is nothing to be afraid of.
I was struck by a passage in Sam McPheeters book ‘Mutations’ where he says he suddenly changed from going to see shows many times a week to not being interested in seeing live music at all – like a switch that went off for him. My circumstances in 2013 suddenly meant that I could no longer afford (or choose to afford) going to shows after about 8 years of being out every weekend. I missed the thrill and the camaraderie, meeting friends, frenzied noise and the joys of working together but ultimately I easily accepted this new situation. Perhaps because I had a higher goal at the time – to move myself to Thailand.
‘Grow out of your ideals’….this, I feel, is something that didn’t change for me. I still carry the same ideals – even useless ones. I am an idealist more than a realist. It’s a source of personal unhappiness but by itself a virtue.
‘But the heart longs for something different’…the grass is always greener. I’m learning now to be satisfied. My brain is not switched off to new ideas and possibilities and I don’t wish to become an old man stuck in his ways but I am learning to relax into a peaceful rhythm of life, sitting in my own comfortable space within a beautiful house with a beautiful garden, in a strange otherworld of a foreign country and in the comfort of my own mind. This is what I wanted, this is what I got, so now I must enjoy the reward.
I know exactly why I highlighted this yet I think I only agree the first clause of this sentence. I have some very vivid memories of certain places that contributed to a great passionate love that sticks with me to this day. It was a very special time that I hope I can put into words one day. I would often revisit those places, searching for that brief passion within me, ultimately knowing that it won’t be found again. I have accepted that and even feel happier without that high, because those kinds of highs were always followed by lows, whether the following week, month, year or decade. I am much more at peace these days. I do still wish I was more mature at the time. I would’ve hurt less people, including myself.
It has been a sad, drizzly day, without relief – just like my future senility. I am oppressed by strange thoughts and dark sensations; throngs of vague questions obsess me, but I have neither the strength nor the desire to cope with them.
“…just like my future senility’ made me chuckle. What about my current senility? Although not this day, I am often oppressed by throngs of vague questions. Some days I love them and others I don’t have the strength for them. On those days I usually accept the situation and watch TV. I am trying to be kind to myself, waiting on my future senility.
…our own unhappiness makes us more sensitive to the unhappiness of others.
I can feel this deeply sometimes and the effort to take other people out of their funk may help my own depression yet the advice I can give others is much more difficult to follow myself. This is a common experience for most people and I have tried to practice talking less and trying to find other ways to pick people up. This is particularly interesting when there’s little point in talking to ESL students or friends as they don’t have the vocabulary to understand anyway. Cultural differences often stand in the way too. I don’t want to come across as being some kind of expert or having the right way but can only try to offer suggestions.
Tell me, why aren’t we all like brothers? Why does even the best person hold something from another?
What a crazy world it would be if we never held anything back. All truths were told. There must be science fiction stories about this. A utopia or a place where humans completely destroyed each other? This concept is too huge for my tiny little brain right now. Is it even worth thinking about?
Naval Ravikant suggested that asking the question ‘what is the meaning of life’ is pointless, at least in the purpose of producing an answer, but the process of trying to answer the question will still provide worthwhile results.
…we won’t resent for long a wound inflicted by those we love..
I’m reminded of a recent time when a friend offered me advice along with the statement that “I’m only saying this because I love and care about you.” I forget what the advice was now but considered this statement. I took it at face value at the time though also felt a little strange about it – what was the real purpose of the statement?
A few months later and for one reason or another I had done something to upset this friend and now they no longer talk with me. Of course, I could have behaved better though it’s not exactly clear to me what it was that triggered this change in friendship status. Then I thought back to this statement and I realised that it was said without sincerity. It was said just to make them feel good.
Now, that’s ok. Because I’m sure I do this all the time. But I try not to. I want to be completely sincere (or obviously insincere – that’s the English in me again!). I would be a terrible poker player – I cannot hide my feelings on my face and I don’t care to learn.
As to those I love, all wounds are forgiven but I also don’t spread my love so deep and far. Maybe I should. But I’m afraid. What am I really afraid of?
Now I’m getting to vague questions that I may not have the strength to contemplate.
Brain dump
Take it easy. No need to push real hard, just do something – every little bit helps.
You are a student and a teacher. Clearer mind this morning – not so much in it.
Gratitude Journal
I am so happy and grateful for my calm mind this morning. I had a good sleep and woke up with not so many thoughts rattling around and I think it is because I am not teaching proper classes at the moment so I have taken the internal pressure off. I hope I can achieve this state more often when I am teaching normally. Got to balance my care.
Saturday, it was very hot It was hotter when I saw her Tiny bikini and baggy shirt No one on the beach could ignore her So I went over and said ‘How about it? Fancy making a go?’ She turned around and looked up And she sweetly said ‘no’
30th May 2023 – This poetic story is total fantasy. I never had the guts to talk to girls back then. ‘Bit of stuff’ seems to have fallen out of favour as a sexist term for pretty girls, probably for the best but no doubt replaced with a million others.
1994ever 