Looking up I see sunlight glimmering through the leaves.
The trees of Oirase stand like venerable, wise persons.
Gazing upward from the streambed where I stand, I see deep-green leaves of August, filled with life, extending from treetops and branches toward small patches of blue sky.
Nothing is more deserving of praise than a tree that has endured.
Beauty approaching divinity.
Not a thing is missing. Perfection. Its trunk, massive. Its bark, thick.
In Japanese it is called mizunara—water oak.
Its name derives from the large amount of water it stores.
These trees grow to 100 feet; I am told that their average age is around 300 years. …
What tenacity! They simply keep pressing skyward, straight toward the heavens, no matter what may get in their way. The taller they grow, the deeper they sink their roots into the earth.
In this way, a tree is a bridge that connects heaven and earth. Though small, this bridge is thoroughly alive—a living antenna by which the earth converses with the cosmos.
All in the universe is a continuous struggle. So it is with the growth of plants and trees. Winning that struggle, they grow green and flourish.
In the growth rings of this oak are engraved a history of all its hardships, all its struggles and all its glorious triumphs. Recorded are winters when branches bow under the weight of snow, as well as summers of joyous profusion.
The cracks in its bark give it the appearance of the wrinkled, sun-tanned skin of a mature man. To this tree, I ask in my heart, “Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else some day?”
But the tree seems to smile warmly and reply: “Of course not! This is my place! It is here that I have struggled and won! Could there be any greater place than this?”
Ah! Precious tree—always endowed and ever abiding in the Land of Eternally Tranquil Light. Your proud form reminds me of a great philosopher who is awakened to the truth of the universe.
Adapted from an essay in Our Beautiful Earth: Photos and Essays ofMy Travels, by Daisaku Ikeda, April 2, 2000, Seikyo Press, Tokyo, Japan.
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