Who are the Roots, the Branches and the Leaves in your Tree?

You’d have to be a hermit living in the subarctic frozen town of Russia’s Oymyakon not to have registered what a complete upheaval of world order 2016 turned out to be.

Great music legends gone: Prince. Bowie. Cohen; the election of a con businessman with orange skin and a toddler’s temper to the highest office in the now Disunited States of America.

That chaos makes the thoughtful among us look deep inside at what we value. It made me reflect on my work as a writer, giving me pinpoint focus on the calling to communicate and what it means to tell stories.

This year more than ever, after spending more than 22 years at my craft, I felt a real sense of purpose in sharing others’ experiences of the world — especially those who have surmounted tragedy to emerge as stronger, more grounded people.

It makes you hold dear the precious people you have in your life, and, by vivid contrast, shines a spotlight on relationships that are hanging precariously — left to wither as your interests move apart, or torn through the middle by hurtful words and assumptions.

Many of us keep at friendships and partnerships for no good reason than habit, than the fear of change. Other times, simmering tensions boil to the surface in a sharp exchange of resentment, jealousy and confusion — and there’s no way to get back the connection unless both parties are willing to be honest and raw.

I am a terrible liar and guilty of wanting to help ‘fix’ things that seem askew, and what I’ve learned is that it takes a strong person to acknowledge a hard truth and not take that as a personal affront, to not interpret a different perspective as a rejection of love and friendship. Each of us is on our own personal journey, and for those stuck in survival or denial, those further along the path of emotional intelligence (EQ) must seem like distant and haunting figures.

It’s taken more than four decades for me to be unashamedly comfortable with who I am — a loud, boisterous mischief maker, with a compulsion for rule breaking and riotous laughter. The keepers in my life are those who accept my gregarious nature and revel in its energy, never trying to dim my light to make their own presence shine a little brighter.

The keepers are those who are on your page, turning with you for every new chapter, wanting to know every brutal detail of your story — without ego or envy — celebrating when you and your crew are winning, commiserating when times are tough and helping you find a way forward.

Tyler Perry’s wise altar ego Madea likens this great social ‘circle’ of ours to a tree. What holds each of us up are our roots: these people are our stability, the core members of your support network, the people who are there through all the seasons of your life.

The branches are people who might look like they’re strong enough to hold and support you but if you step out on them, they break under the pressure.

Rustling around the fringes are the leaves — those flyaway people who blow every which way when the wind picks up. They are transient entities, here and then gone, just long enough to take from the tree.

“Some people come into your life for a lifetime. Some come for a season. You’ve got to know which is which. And you’re gonna always mess up when you mix seasonal people up with lifetime expectations,” says Madea.

Old Madea has lived and loved, she’s suffered and learned. Her metaphor of relationships being like the parts of a tree seems to me an incredibly majestic way of defining the people that drift in and out of your life.

“I put everybody that comes into my life in the category of a tree. Some people are like leaves on a tree. The wind blows — they’re over here. They’re unstable. It blows the other way — now they’re over here. The season changes. They wither and die. They’re gone. It’s alright. Some people, most people in the world are like that. They’re just there to take from the tree. They ain’t there to do nothing but take and give shade every now and then. That’s all they can do. But don’t get mad if people are like that. That’s who they are. That’s what they were put on this earth to be what they are, a leaf.

Some people are like a branch on that tree. You’ve got to be careful about them branches too cause they’ll fool you. They’ll make you think they’re a good friend and they’re real strong, but the minute you step out there on them they’ll break and leave you high and dry.

But if you find two or three people in your life that are like the roots at the bottom of that tree, you are blessed. Because they’re the kind of people that ain’t going nowhere. They ain’t worried about being seen. Don’t nobody have to know what they’re doing for you but if those roots weren’t there that tree couldn’t live. You understand? A tree could have a hundred million branches, but only a few roots down at the bottom to make sure it gets everything it needs. I’m telling you, when you get you some roots hold on to them, but the rest of ’em, let ’em go. Just let it go. Let folks go.”

When I was 23 and on a trip of a lifetime — a 6-week Contiki tour through Europe with my best friend from high school, her sister and another dear friend — I was dealt a terrible blow that took me many years to fully process.

One week into the adventure, my friend told me that she’d rather not spend time with me on the trip, that we simply weren’t on the same frequency anymore, effectively dissolving 10 years of friendship in a caravan park in Venezia, 16,000km from home.

“You’re just too happy all the time,” was the way she put it. The phrase was etched in my conscience for a long time. I took the judgement as exposing a terrible flaw in my character — was I too forward, too confident, too big a personality for anyone to ever feel comfortable in my presence?

Some 20 years later, I realise my teenage friend was a fallen leaf, one of my early lessons in how those who are nervous and unsure of their place in the world often retreat in fear when confronted by people who are completely comfortable in their skin. Put simply, I did not make her feel good about herself. She decided life was easier when she could shut out all the people who were different to her.

But there’s a reason we seek out our opposites. They have for us the alternate mindset, and the contrasting temperament that might help us form a ‘whole’ — wiser, stronger, more empathic people, attuned to the great diversity in the world.

While it hurts to lose a friend, a lover, or a confidante — there’s no shame in having been open to that experience.

When a leaf falls from your tree, your roots will keep you grounded, steady in the knowledge that they are your foundation, and you, theirs.

Change is constant. You have to suffer to learn and grow. Sometimes, it takes someone, or something, to shake your tree so that you can feel the depths of its roots; to make you appreciate the wonder that is unconditional love.

I believe real friendship and great love is spoken in a full voice, not a quiet whisper for fear of offence. It is never, ever timid, shying away from reality, hiding in the silence between rehearsed words.

It has taken me 44 years to understand that. Truth is everything. Bullshit is everywhere. Surround yourself with people who are real and generous, people who are always willing to look you in the eye when they speak to you. That’s where the magic happens, even if you’re knee deep in muck.

There are many things that I aspire to be — funny, thoughtful, generous, but also a Root for those who I love, someone who does not bend or wither under pressure.

I am absorbing all the experiences of my life — and using them as emotional nourishment — anchoring those I love best in the world with all the knowledge and commitment I can muster. I know if I can be grounding for them, then I have done my duty to stand strong and tall for another precious soul trying to make sense of the world. That’s real freedom — to know that you matter to others, that you bring joy, laughter and an open spirit.

I will no longer suffer anyone who tries to put me in a tiny box. My words, my voice are my power. I was born to roar. There is no shame in that. It is a gift.

My sister offered me a metaphor that moved me to tears. “You’re like a tiger. You can’t keep a tiger in a cage.”

She is one of my roots. So are my husband, my son, my mother, my father, my brother, and a handful of true friends who are my foundation. Some I only see a few times a year but the connection never wanes. We hold each other up. We invest in each other’s stories: the successes, and the disappointments, tethered by genuine affection for how we are travelling along the ever winding path of life.

So my final thought for 2016 is that I’m glad that my tree was shaken. It made me consider who are the Leaves, the Branches, and the Roots in my life. It made me realise that even though it’s hard, sometimes strength is letting the leaves that are putting you in the shade, drift away.

My son is only 12 and he is already growing his own tree with beautiful friendships that show the depth of his emotional core.

When three of his oldest friends won academic awards at graduation, he cheered for them with such passion and support that one parent sought me out to express how beautiful it was to see a young boy react with such emotional maturity; that he could embrace their glory without fear that it would make him any less.

As the children said their farewells on the final day of primary school, my son’s younger Grade 5 friend burst into tears, completely distraught at the prospect of seeing his classmate move on to high school.

I told my son later that night he may not have scored an academic award, but that show of sadness from his friend deserved a Humanity award, that he had become someone’s grounding.

Maybe we should be teaching our children not just how to read, write and count, but how to be people of character — people who are Roots — people who can accept that every season of our life will bring new leaves and branches, that we need those people and experiences to grow, but that ultimately it is our Roots that matter most, it is the Roots that keep the tree alive, and with the right nurturing, it is those Roots that will allow you to thrive.