I have been watching spring coming. Ah, it is so beautiful to watch spring come. Right outside my office at home, there is a tree, and in the winter, it shed every leaf, down to just bare branches. And then slowly but surely, spring began to come, and not a day was wasted for those green shoots to start appearing. This I call dedication. This I call life. This I call “the grand miracle.” If that tree was human, it would say, “Why are we doing this? Winter will come again, and I will have to shed these leaves again. So forget this— just hibernate.”
It is not logic, but something that transcends logic. Love is not logical. These little shoots wait and wait. They can’t forecast the weather. They don’t think: “These two days are warm, but then the next two days it’s going to rain again, so just wait.” No. For them, it is: “Here it is. The warmth has come. The sun is shining. The temperature is right. Let’s go.” And as tender and delicate as those shoots are, even with two days of cold and rain, they keep on going. There is a drive that is more powerful. And this scene plays out for billions of trees every year.
