From Generals to Giants to the Globe

I learned something interesting the other day and decided it was worth sharing with the vast oblivion of the blogoshpere.

I learned about a tree.

But not just any tree. A GIANT tree. A general among trees.

General Sherman.

This tree, located in northern California's Sequoia National Park, is the largest tree in the world, according to its volume. It's an estimated 2000 or so years old and stands over 270 feet high. Incredible right?

I've never been to see the giant sequoia trees (although it's definitely on my list of adventures) but I imagine what it must be like to stand in front of this thing. This one tree, and many like it, are rooted in something deeper than simple soil. The General has been around centuries longer than I ever have and ever will be. That one tree has seen more time, more seasons, and more faces than most people. I like to picture what it would be like to stand in front of this giant of the ages, how I would feel at encountering this monument to stability and persistence.

And I think mostly I'd feel small.

Young.

 Inexperienced.

But like a lot of things I learn about, I wanted to look at the General in a different context. What if I were to step back a bit? How would a change of perspective affect my view?

This is a shot of Sequoia National Park from a distance.

Somewhere down there is General Sherman.

Looks a little different from up here, huh? 

The tree that seems so epic, that seems too big to be allowed is now untraceable, lost in a forest of creatures just like it.

It's interesting to realize how giants can obstruct my view. Too often, I find myself focused on the one. The one problem. The one day. The one idea. I am unable to look beyond the seemingly unconquerable issue that consumes my sight to see the majesty of the entire picture. I see nothing beyond my own life, the existence that, upon first glance, seems to take up all available space. When I live in the shadow of the General, there is no room to look around, no room to be grateful, no room to invest in the lives of others. All my energy is directed towards the giant.

But what if I changed my view?

What if I was able to step back, look down, and truly see?  What peace could be gained if, rather than zero in on the one, I was able to open my eyes to the many? How would that change the way I interact with others who, like myself, often cannot see the forest for the tree? How would my life be different if I gained a piece of heavenly perspective?