THE PERSPECTIVE TREE

I work in what used to be a convent. Outside my office window is a giant sequoia tree. It is over a century old, which is relatively young for a sequoia. Barring any natural or human-instigated catastrophe, that tree could very well stand where it is for another millennia or two. 

I've come to view that tree as a persistent symbol of perspective. As important as my work may seem to me or anybody else today, odds are it will not last as long as that tree has - let alone as long as it could last. Whatever I'm working on may matter in the here and now, but it probably won't matter much decades from now. A century from now it will probably be forgotten. The tree is more likely to endure.

I suppose that could be discouraging, but for me it's helpful. What matters is entirely relative. What matters right now to a defined group of people may not matter at all to a different group or even to the same group in the future. What matters to me won't matter to everyone. What matters to me now may not matter to me tomorrow. None of that is to say that whatever you're doing isn't worthwhile. It probably is in your context. If it matters to someone, then it does matter. And maybe it will change the world (although I'm not entirely sure why everyone seems to use that as a goal these days - but more on that another time). Maybe a century from now you and your thing will continue to be regarded as something remarkable. But it's also okay if you aren't. And being comfortable with that could actually make your work and life easier. It helps strip away some of the stress and pressure. 

One final note on the tree: it was planted by the parents of a young girl when she first came to study at the convent. They planted it, I assume, in the hope that it would be a symbol of their pride and affection for their daughter. I figure the world is a better place if that is the kind of thing that endures.