The Tree That You Are and The Fruits That You Bear
Water the fruit trees, and don’t water the thorns.”
– Rumi
“No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit.”
That one was from St. Luke, and it’s only one of the many quotes where trees and fruits are used figuratively to bring beauty to an idea that a writer or speaker wishes to convey, emphasize, and clarify.
Obviously, the “tree” in that bible verse refers to you and me. And what about the fruits? They are our thoughts, words, and actions and their outcomes. Could there be other fruits? I believe there’s none. The things we think, say and do and their eventual consequences or results are the fruits of the tree that we are. There’s nothing else that would come from us through which we can be judged or valued as a person.
We think (consciously or subconsciously) first before we say or do something. I refer to it as the “think-say-do” process. After processing an idea or a situation (or any other kind of stimulus) in our minds, we decide what actions to take or words to say thereafter. That’s our response. You may call it a decision.
“Each tree is recognized by its own fruits.” Thus, you should be careful of what you think and the decision you make afterward. They are manifestations of the kind of person you are… and have consequences or results. I don’t know if there can be an argument against that assertion.
You have first-hand knowledge of how you think and decide. You are aware of the kind of fruits you produce. What about their outcomes? The fruits you bear result in the reputation you build for yourself in the community where you belong and among your colleagues, peers, friends, and loved ones. Imagine reputation as the basket where your fruits – the decisions you made in the past – are stored. What people say (and think) about you is your reputation. Your reputation is the consequence of your speech and actions.
Sometimes, even if you say and do good and always try your best to make the right decisions, some people will treat you negatively. Don’t mind them. Their reactions are boomerangs that would harm them, not you.
Whatever you have accomplished at this stage in your life are also consequences of your past decisions. Your resume is also a basket of the fruits you produced. If people would scrutinize your resume, what would they see? What they see are your fruits. Success is one big and ripe apple in the apple tree. It is the end goal of all our personal and professional pursuits.
But there’s a fruit sweeter than success – happiness. That’s what simple people with simple dreams who don’t have a curriculum vitae to show try to grow in their tree. You would even hear people with grand dreams say they aim for success because they want to be happy. Their success is the source of their happiness, while for the simple folks I mentioned earlier, the simplicity of their life and desires makes them happy.
Reputation, success, and happiness – the products of the decisions you make – are the fruits of the tree you become.
The kind of fruits you would bear depends on the kind of tree you grow into. Good fruits will spring out of your branches and twigs if you are a good tree.
Bear in mind that you have control of the process of becoming who you are. Yes, no one else is in control of it. We call that process self-improvement. The tree that would sprout from that transformation is your “best self.”
Only when you become your “best self” that you will start bearing the good fruits.
The journey into becoming your “best self” begins with one simple step – rejecting any excuse to not become the tree you wish to be and bear the fruit you desire.
Education comes next. We nourish the tree called “self” through education. And it’s going to be long and tedious. It’s actually lifelong. Remember what Aristotle said, “The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.” But with education, I don’t mean just formal schooling. Schools are not the only place where learning can be had. Learning comes in many shapes and forms.
Learning makes you better than you were yesterday.
Sometimes we feel discouraged when all the efforts we put into self-improvement seemingly do not bear fruit. We need to be patient. Rousseau tells us that patience is bitter, but the fruit is sweet. Moliere added, “The trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.”
There’s one more fruit that your tree will eventually bear – wisdom. You know it’s there when you realize that growing the tree is more exciting than harvesting its fruits. What you will become – your best self – is beyond your reputation, more glittery than success, and more overwhelming than happiness.
EVERLASTING (Part 5)
(Short Story / Last of 5 Parts)
I felt tremendously excited and a little bit worried for my grandmother. I cannot be mistaken. The old man who gave the card was her adorer. I wished that the old man decided to stay longer. I opened the gate. Grandma got out first.
“Where is he… where?” asked my grandmother. “My God! Why didn’t you give this to me immediately.” I scanned the part of the road where I saw the car parked. It was no longer there. In the whole neighborhood, I searched, my Grandma’s adorer was nowhere to be found.
When I returned, my grandmother stood in front of the newly-built bungalow where the old man parked his car earlier. Needless to say any word, both Grandma and I were despondent. My sadness emanated from the failed expectation that I would meet the noblest lover I have known.
The source of my Grandma’s sorrow was different, I was sure. Now, I no longer need to ask if Grandma loved her adorer. Her actions at that time betrayed her – her being so disconsolate for failing to finally see her adorer after more than four decades revealed how she truly feels for him.
We exchanged no words until we reached her room. I decided to stay with my grandmother. She had laid on the bed while I went back to continue reading Peeker’s blogs. My Grandma’s eyes were closed. I watched her intently. Even in old age, she remained elegantly beautiful, notwithstanding all those wrinkles. No wonder why her adorer fell madly in love. Later on, I noticed some tears falling from her closed eyes. At that instance, all the more that it became clear to me how she felt about her adorer.
After a few minutes, a notification about a new blog entry appeared on the laptop’s screen. After 10 years, Peeker blogged again for Charming.
“Grandma, wake up. Peeker has a new post for you!” There was no reaction from Grandma. She seemed disinterested. “Did you hear that grandma, a new post from Peeker!”
It took a while before Grandma reacted and said with her eyes still closed, “Would you like to read it aloud for me?”
“My pleasure!” I answered. With tremendous excitement, I opened the blog entry and started reading aloud.
—–
My Ever dearest Charming,
“Happy 60th birthday… Rest assured that I never stopped thinking about you. God knows I never stopped loving you.
Now I can tell you. I worked in the Middle East only for 5 years. I returned to our country after that, but I decided never to bother you. I made it appear that I stayed for good in the Middle East. Please forgive me for that.
I was there when you graduated from college and in graduate school. You just did not see me. I was there during your 30th, 40th, and 50th birthday celebrations. I was there each time that I wanted to see you. Each time I would only be watching clandestinely from a distance and through the tinted glasses of my car. How lucky I would be to see you daintily tending the flowers in your garden as my car rolled by. You know so well that just seeing you would give me immeasurable joy. But why do you seem sad whenever I see you alone in the garden?
I almost died in jealousy each time I passed by and witnessed on your terrace how gently your husband would kiss you on your cheeks and lips.
I was there also when you got married at the age of 25. You were the prettiest bride that I have ever seen. That was the most ironic moment in my life. While you were tying the knots, mine was unknotted, for it was that day when the court approved the annulment of marriage that my wife filed. I never got married again, for I vowed you would be the last woman I would love.
Why did I stop blogging for the past 10 years? Your husband got sick, and I don’t want to burden you more. I wanted you to provide him with undivided attention. When he died, I tried to respect your bereavement. I may have stopped blogging, but I never stopped tirelessly watching you from afar.
I own the bungalow nearby. I was watching when you and a young gentleman came out of the gate of your house several minutes ago. But I don’t know why until now I am afraid to face you. Perhaps I need an answer to a question I should have asked you before we parted that day.”
—–
Upon hearing that portion, my Grandma opened her eyes and excitedly exclaimed, “What did he say again?”
“Grandma, he was in his house when we searched for him. He saw us.” I retorted.
“Oh, that melodramatic fool,” my Grandma said in exasperation.
—–
“I was the happiest person on earth when I saw you. I would like to believe that you were looking for me and wanted to see me. I hope I am not so presumptuous, but under the bright light post, I saw in your face how much you wanted to see me. When you could not locate me, I saw how sad you were, the same sadness that I saw during our first and only date… it was a picnic we had then… I told you that I would be leaving for the Middle East.
Now I have one request to make. I will now allow you to comment on this post. Please answer my questions.
Do you love me? Please allow me to live the last days of my life with you.
—–
My grandmother obliged. She requested me to encode her reply to her adorer’s questions.
—–
If only you tried to show up before I got married, things would have been different. Right from the start, you have stolen my heart. You’re a thief. But I was so young and so afraid. I didn’t know what to do. I cried when you left. I cried a river. That river drowned me for a long time. I wanted to stop you from going, but I don’t know if you would listen. I was waiting for you to kiss me, embrace me, and do whatever you wanted to do to me. But you never did.
I cried every time I read your blogs. And as the days, weeks, months, and years passed, I felt how much my love for you had grown stronger.
If only you appeared in the church during my wedding, I would have ran to you and asked you to bring me anywhere you wanted. But you never did. I want to think that you’re a coward. I did not ask you to sacrifice to give me away to someone else because you always wanted to toe the line of propriety and morality. I don’t know if I would consider that sacrifice on your part or if it was cowardice. It hurt that you did not try to express your feelings for me. I would have preferred to be ridiculed by my friends and family…by society…than lose you.
You are right. I was not happy all those years because I kept waiting for you. My husband knew about you, about my feelings for you. We quarreled many times because he resented that I could not forget you until he accepted that you would always be part of me.
But I never told him about your blogs. Your blogs kept me afloat, but I preferred seeing you in flesh and blood. I waited for you to show up anytime and take me away, but you never did. My husband knows that anytime you appear, he may lose me. I hate to admit it, and may our God forgive me for this… there were nights I shared the bed with my husband, but I imagined you.
And here you are now, finally.
How cruel of you not to have blogged for the past 10 years. It was during those years that I needed you most. Not just that. You doubled my pain. For not blogging, you kept me drowned in anxiety. I did not know what happened to you. I thought you finally got tired of loving me. I thought you were sick. I thought you were dead.
How cruel of you not to have just shown up, kissed, and embraced me when I left the house earlier.
I want to see you in my garden tomorrow. If you don’t show up, forget about me.
—–
“Are you happy now?” Grandma asked. “Now you know the answers to all your questions.”
“What will you do when you see him tomorrow, Grandma?”
“I will slap that melodramatic old man!”
“Then?”
“I will embrace and kiss him! I will demand that he marries me.”
(The End)
EVERLASTING (Part 4)
(Short Story / 4th of 5 Parts)
Then I noticed that sadness gradually disappeared in the landscape of Peeker’s next blogs as weeks passed after he met Grandma.
—–
“There’s no denying that I have fallen in love with you. But it is also pointless to expect reciprocity from you. I could only dream; anyone can dream that you would love me in return. I could only wish, for there’s no limit to wishful thinking, that you should have come into my life when I had no moral restrictions.
While I ceased uselessly thrusting aside my feelings for you to God, I fervently prayed (and always pray for you) that He may keep my intentions for you pure. After that, I began noticing the good things you have done for me, something that I did not see when trying to shrug off what I felt for you. Only then did I realize how wonderful my life was turning since you came into my life? You have served as a tremendous inspiration.
With you around, I began to view life positively again. I became more passionate and creative with you everywhere in my work.”
I have promised never to let you know how I really felt for you, for I am afraid that you may no longer treat me the way you did and that even our friendship may be extinguished. But it was a risk that I had to take. I decided I must tell you, not because I wanted you to reciprocate, but I just want you to know, before I go and may never see you again, how endeared to me you have become.
—–
“So, grandma, before that 3-month program ended, did he make the big revelation?” I asked.
My grandma looked at me, paused for a while, then said, “Actually, during the last month of the program, he told me about someone serving as his inspiration, a very young woman. Then, later on, he admitted to having fallen in love with her. But no matter how pushy I was in asking him when we talk or exchange text messages to divulge her identity, he would not.”
I could sense the excitement in how Grandma relived the past. Then she continued, “During our last session for the program, he asked if we could talk that weekend in a quiet place, just the two of us. I acceded for a gentleman like him I know could be trusted. We had a picnic in a park on the outskirts of the next town. He was undeniably happy. I had never seen him so happy. I have never seen him smile genuinely or laugh so vigorously. Before, he may smile, but his eyes always radiate sadness.”
“We talked about many things but intentionally avoided touching on serious matters. He informed me that he had resigned from the university where he was teaching. After two months, he would be leaving for the Middle East, where he accepted an invitation to head the university’s English Department there.
Honestly, I became sad and momentarily speechless upon hearing that. I didn’t understand why. But I didn’t like him to notice it. I wanted to tell him not to leave the country, but I chose not to. I really did not like him to leave. I don’t know why. We spent almost the whole day in that park.”
Then I asked Grandma how his adorer told him about his feelings.
“He did not tell me anything about that young woman he fell in love with and drew so much inspiration from. Before we parted that day, though, he gave me the note I had shown you once. He requested that I open it when I got home. Which I did.”
“Ahh, I remember that card, Grandma,” I said, “But you did not allow me to read the short message it contains. Please allow me to read the note now. Please…”
Miraculously, Grandma nodded and gave me the note that she was just hiding in her purse.
“I know you will come looking for this note when I told you about this. So, I made sure you won’t find it. But here! You can see it now!” my grandma said with a taunting smile.
Finally, I got to see it. The note reads, “Falling in love with you was the most wonderful thing in my life. I only regret that it is a love that was never meant to be. Leaving was painful, but it was the best thing I must do. I have never asked anything from you in return except this one… please read my blogs whenever you have time.”
As planned, Grandma’s adorer left for the Middle East after two months. But amazingly, he continued to write blog entries for her…
—–
“I was so happy on the eve of my departure because you allowed me to call you. We chatted for almost a couple of hours. Then playfully that I asked, “Why were you born too late?”… you answered, “And why were you born too soon?” We laughed at those oft-repeated lines in a movie.
Then I asked how you felt when you learned that that young woman with whom I fell crazily in love was you. You said you didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t even know what to say at that moment. Upon hearing that, I wanted to think you are naïve, but who am I to judge you. Perhaps I was the one so naïve, putting an emotional burden on someone so young like you. I didn’t bother to push you further. Later you said you were so surprised that a person of my stature would be blinded by someone just like you that you wanted to think it was just one of those jokes I tried to play on you. I offered no explanation for that occurrence in my life – falling in love with you – was something I could not explain. It just came spontaneously. JOKE? It could be, but it is a joke that I did not play on you, but a joke that fate played on me.
Before my plane flew, I sent you several text messages. Unabashedly, I told you how much I love you. And, of course, you know what you said in return.”
—–
“Grandma, what did you tell him in response?
“I admitted that he has become a part of my life, very much a part of my life. I told him how I wished I could love him in return.”
My grandma momentarily stopped. “Hey grandma, what? What else did you tell your adorer?”
A moment of silence ensued. Grandma stared and smiled at me and answered hesitatingly, “I… I was not sure… I was too young…too confused. I didn’t know what more to say then.”
I was so disappointed with Grandma’s response. I would like to believe what Peeker said that Grandma is naïve, but who am I also to pass judgment on her.
—–
“Goodbye, Charming! The greatest pleasure that I have in my life is knowing you. Certainly, you will remain forever in my heart and mind. I will be praying for your good future. May you have a great family. As I wrote in the note I gave you after our picnic… please read my blogs whenever you have time.”
—–
How tirelessly that Peeker expressed his eternal adoration for Grandma. Her feelings for Charming seemed to have not relented through the years. He never got tired of blogging for Grandma – telling her about events in his life – asking her for prayers for his problems and difficulties – detailing his pains and grief – expressing his unfathomable affection to her. That went on and on through the years.
“Grandma, did you regularly read your adorer’s blog?” I asked.
Grandma nodded and said, “Of course, weekly, sometimes fortnightly, there were times I did it daily. I did it in secrecy, always in the wee hours of the morning when nobody would notice. But he discouraged me from giving reactions to his blogs, which I obediently followed.”
Asking Grandma again how she felt about Peeker would just be a practice in futility, for, as always, she would give a vague answer. But regularly reading his blog would mean that, at least to Grandma, her adorer is someone very special, or it could be more than that.
At 3:00 A.M., I decided to allow Grandma to rest. My thirst for information about her adorer was more than quenched. She promised to give me access to Peeker’s blogs anytime I wanted.
Then I remember the old man and the birthday card. Before leaving Grandma’s room, I gave her the said card.
” By the way, Grandma, somebody wants you to have this.” She read the card as I head out.
“Wait!” She said, “Who gave you this? Where’s he?” I have not seen Grandma so excited.
“An old man in a car parked by the roadside before I came here. I wonder if he’s still there. Why?”
To my amazement, Grandma got a jacket and scurried downstairs while wearing it. I followed her immediately.
EVERLASTING (Part3)
(Short Story / 3rd of 5 Parts)
He admitted being so stupid for feeling how he felt because my grandmother was so young at that time, almost half his age. He admitted to being inappropriate because he was already married then.
“Ahh, those were why you did not love him in return, you were half his age, and he’s married?” Right Grandma? I inquired.
“Just keep on reading, will you!” was Grandma’s response.
I expected she would finally tell me directly how she felt about her adorer. It was again a futile attempt. I just continued reading.
—–
“I have laughed off Francis Bacon’s thesis about love. He said that love is similar to the stage. It is filled with tragedy, comedy, mischief, and fury. I thought it was a shallow analogy. But now here I am, sounding like an actor in a play delivering a soliloquy. And I am not sure when this will end… when I end talking to myself. “
“This is a comedy. I made myself my own laughingstock. And I am almost certain you are laughing now at my stupidity.”
—–
I paused reading again and asked my grandma, “Did you consider all these kinds of stuff stupidity, grandma?”
“Never! Why should I?” was her curt reply.
When I continued, I suddenly laughed (and my grandma was amused) when I read that portion of the adorer’s blog where he admitted he was crazy thinking of grandma almost every moment. The following lines are similar to the content of my video message to a pretty classmate I was wooing at that time. The next were the words I told that lady, “I think of you almost every moment…before sleeping at night, I would think of you. I would see you in my dreams, and when I woke up, the image of your pretty smiling face would greet me. You seemed to have established omnipresence in my consciousness. Your image is present in the books I read, in the movies I watch, in the sky, in the trees, EVERYWHERE!
Then I continued reading the blogs…
—–
” I have disagreed with Bacon when he posited that ‘it is impossible to love and to be wise.’ It is equivalent to saying that love makes a person crazy. I disagreed, but here I am swirling around my own disagreement.”
“Funny, but I considered kinds of stuff like these childish. I hate being dramatic. But it’s exactly what I have become.”
“What have you done to me? Most of my working hours were spent daydreaming about you. The first time that something like this happened to me. I never paid so much attention to a lady, and never had I almost begged to be given attention in return. There were women I dated who were as pretty and charming as you are but more sophisticated and schooled. But none of them charmed me the way you did. None of those beautiful and successful women made me feel and act so strangely this way. It was only you – a youngster – someone who has yet to prove her worth. You rendered my training in Philosophy worthless, for in matters about you, I have become illogical.”
“Yeah, I hate to admit it, but what happened is plain stupidity. This should not be, but I am so helpless. People at a certain stage in their lives commit stupid acts and say stupid things they may regret. Is this my turn?”
—–
“Gosh, Grandma, are you sure you are not a witch? I would like to think that you gave this man some potion.”
My grandma just gave me a smile and a loving nudge on my nape in response. “I would say that he had really gone crazy over you. How did he cope? I hope that your most ardent adorer did nothing stupid.”
Grandma smiled and said, “He is a decent man! He did nothing wrong! I did not know about his feelings, his predicaments, or the pain I caused him. He kept those to himself for a long time! Everything seemed normal when we talked personally, on the phone, or exchanged text messages! Okay, just read on.”
Read on. I did. I passed by entries that vividly elucidated the man’s emotional struggles, the predicament I hoped I would never be able to undergo.
—–
“That night, I went to the riverbank where I would have my reflections every time I would be emotionally burdened. Falling in love was supposed to be a wonderful feeling, but why it has become an emotional struggle for me. It has brought me more sadness than joy.
No, the sadness was not a product of guilt for falling in love with another woman when I had already tied the knot with another one. Not even for falling in love with someone so young. The moral purists may disagree, but falling in love is never wrong. Falling in love per se is not a sin. The subsequent acts committed to pursuing the feeling would determine whether it’s sinful. Ahh, I am clearly trying to justify my stupidity.”
—–
Falling in love is a beautiful experience, but the adorer’s seemingly hopeless struggle to shrug off the feeling prevents him from experiencing the joy of falling in love. He said that he tried so hard to suppress the emotion. But to no avail. The adorer admitted having his ways with women. He knew how to make women fall in love but never tried any trick on my grandmother.
The adorer wished that he could circumvent the existing moral standards so he would not suffer from his ethical dilemma or that he could have been born in a culture that would not give him such prohibitions.
—–
“I know I can love you but never have you. I can love you, for nobody has the right to prevent me from feeling what I have felt for you. As hard as I did, I could not restrain my heart from falling in love with you.
But I can never have you for obvious reasons. That I needed to accept wholeheartedly my love for you is a love that was never meant to be.
It was also pride, not guilt, preventing me from experiencing the joy of falling in love. I found it hard to accept that a young woman like you could put me on an emotional leash. But that also is a reality I have to accept. I gladly put in your hands that emotional leash. Make me happy, make me sad. Do as you wish!
Could this be my karma? I used to be the one who held the handle of the emotional leash.”
—–
I sympathized deeply with the man for all the emotional struggles he underwent because of his love for Grandma. What could be more painful than finally finding true love in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and under the wrong circumstances? What a crazy fate! This stuff, I thought, I would only read in stories and watch in movies.
In one blog entry, he mentioned how sad he became one night when he heard the song “Please Don’t Ask Me.” I sympathized so profoundly when he said that the line in the song that hit him the hardest was… “It only hurts the more I pretend that we could ever be more than friends.”
Several other blog entries dealt with how wholeheartedly my grandma’s adorer accepted the realities that confronted him – the truth that only a youngster like my grandma then would drive him nuts – the reality that he could love my grandma, but he could never have her – the reality that they could never be more than friends.
Then I noticed that sadness gradually disappeared in the landscape of Peeker’s next blogs as weeks passed after he met Grandma.
M.A.D. LIGAYA
M.A.D. L I G A Y A 