The Man with the Sequoia Heart

For Finn, on His 50th Birthday

In the morning, when he awoke, there was his heart, as big as the Universe, whose edges went beyond the finite understanding of the mind and so seemed to burst the very seams of his being.
He felt like a small cell in an enormous Sequoia, whose roots and branches, he knew, fed him, though he could not see them nor grasp their outline. And he felt the Sequoia speak his name -- it was a vibration that went through him, without words, but as the touch of the Infinite -- as if the Sequoia were his mother, and she was naming him for the first time (though she had always known his name.)

He knew, then, that all of life is this naming, this calling forth to being from what has always been. And as he looked at all of the other beings around him, he knew that they, too, had been called forth to continue the sacred art of creating from that which was already created.

Once he realized this, there was nothing he could do but to pick up his tools and begin carving the heart of the great Sequoia, following the shapes that were resting there since before the beginning. And while it took the strength of every cell of his being to begin to carve this great Heart, he did it because he knew that his life depended on it and that all great names, when they are called, must step forward for themselves and for the beings who come after them.

As he began, he saw that as he carved the sacred Heart of the giant Sequoia, he carved new spaces in his own heart, in the exact shapes of the work he was making. And when he grew to be an old man, the art that had infused his entire life surrounded him like a giant forest of nymphs and unamed creatures, and he saw, without a doubt, that the shapes he created in this world and the great, carved spaces of his heart were mirrors of each other. The shapes in this life had form, while the shapes in his heart had space.

He no longer felt that he was going to burst at the seams but understood, from his soil-stained toes to his unruly head of hair, that there was no difference between the Heart of the Mother Sequoia and his very own heart. And when his little grandchildren came to his place to play, they sat on his lap, feeling the strength of that Sequoia and knowing they were in the arms of a great being. Not knowing how to name this, exactly, they turned to his works of art, for every great being is known by what springs up around them.

This man's legacy to his children and those who came after him was work carved with such gentle application of attention and affection that you could not doubt the enormous love and tenderness of the artist, and if you peered long enough at one of the pieces, you would see the Great Mother Sequoia in each work, laughing with delight and whispering her blessings to all who would hear.