There are moments in life when we feel burdened by a sense of isolation, as though every responsibility falls squarely on our own shoulders. Even in our most collaborative efforts, the impulse is to "take charge," to fulfil our portion of the work while vigilantly ensuring that no one else is left carrying our share. How essentially human this impulse is—this tendency to view ourselves as solitary actors in a drama of our own making.

Yet, look at the trees. A tree does not fret over its place in the world. It does not measure its worth by how many birds have nested in its branches, or how much fruit it has borne this season. It simply grows, carried by the collective force of nature, part of an interconnected web of life. The tree knows, in its quiet wisdom, that if the conditions are right, it will give back to the world. It neither agonizes over its success nor despairs in failure. It simply exists, feeling its way, moment by moment, into the best version of itself—nurtured and held by the whole.

This, perhaps, is what we can learn from the tree. To release ourselves from the exhausting duality of success and failure, to own neither, and yet to care deeply about the world we are shaping. This is not a retreat from responsibility, nor is it an excuse for laziness. The tree is not idle—it grows with fierce determination, yet it does so without succumbing to the illusion of individualism. It remains connected, rooted in the knowledge that it is part of something greater, carried by the whole.

In this, there is grace. In this, there is freedom. And it is with deep gratitude that we acknowledge all those who have been a part of our whole, who have carried us, even when we did not realise it.

Written by Marie-Anne Chidiac