The Ancient Tree That Taught Me to Care

Deep in the Atlantic Forest, I once stood in the presence of a centennial tree—its roots coiled like stories buried in the earth, its trunk marked with time, and its crown swaying gently in conversation with the sky. There was something about that moment—something so still, yet so alive—that it made me feel both tiny and timeless at once.

This tree had seen a century of change. Fires, storms, perhaps the loss of fellow trees around it. And yet, it stood. Not in dominance, but in harmony. I noticed how its leaves, though dense, allowed golden streaks of sunlight to pass through—feeding the undergrowth, nurturing the saplings, the mosses, the life beginning below.

It struck me as a gesture of quiet generosity. This great being had adapted to survive, yes—but not at the cost of others. Instead, it made space for new life to flourish. It gave as much as it took.

Ancient trees—often referred to as "elders of the forest"—are not just biological wonders; they are repositories of knowledge, resilience, and balance. Some scientists now understand that through underground fungal networks (the “Wood Wide Web”), trees communicate with and support one another. Older trees, especially, will send nutrients to younger or ailing trees nearby.

In Japan, there's a practice called shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing, where people seek healing and calm in the presence of trees. And there is good reason: studies show that spending time near old-growth trees can reduce stress, boost immunity, and enhance emotional well-being.

But beyond the science, there is soul. Ancient trees are living metaphors. They teach us about enduring through adversity, about standing tall while staying rooted, and about the quiet strength of giving.

Ancient Tree

When children grow up around trees—especially when they are guided to notice their beauty, their complexity, their slow and generous pace—they begin to see nature not as a backdrop, but as a teacher, a friend. They develop reverence, not just knowledge. And with reverence comes care.

In my work with young children, I’ve seen how naturally they form connections with nature when given the space to explore, wonder, and feel. Sitting under a tree, listening to a story about its life, or simply watching how the wind plays with its branches—these are small experiences that can plant big seeds.

Children who learn to respect and love nature from an early age grow into adults who want to protect it. They don't just learn about sustainability—they embody it.

As adults, we often rush, striving to grow quickly, shine brightly, reach high. But ancient trees remind us that life is also about patience, rootedness, and interconnectedness. That we are all part of a bigger canopy. That strength can be quiet. That giving can be a form of wisdom.

It’s a story worth passing on. Let’s teach our children to listen, too.