The Root of Connection

For 6,205 days, San Francisco was home. Diversity anchored me to the city by the bay. The world squeezed into this 7X7 square mile grid which gave me access to a variety of foods, peoples, and landscapes. My identity intertwined with the city because of the countless hours I spent exploring this labyrinth. If I slit my wrist, fog would've seeped out. My mind, body, spirit, and soul were deeply connected to San Francisco.

However, making San Francisco my permanent home wasn’t an option when my daughter, Zumi, was born. The houses were too small, outdated, and hella expensive. Half a mil for a studio built in the 1960's. There was no way in hell that I could convince my wife that this was a good idea. Surprisingly, Zona and I had an opportunity to buy a house in Sacramento. A predicament arose. In order to lay down roots for my family, I had to uproot myself from the city I loved.

Our family moved from the San Francisco Bay to the Sacramento Valley within 30 days. The difference between these two areas were night and day. San Francisco was refreshing, a cool 68 degrees. I was outside all the time. To my surprise, Sacramento actually has seasons. My limbs froze in the winter only to thaw out in the summer when Sacramento turns into a blazing inferno. Zumi preferred the stable temperature of our home. As a stay at home father, most of my time was spent indoors. I was a hawk that unexpectedly flew into a cage. I needed to spread my wings and explore the valley if I was going to survive in Sacramento. So I did a Google search.

“Hey Zona, there is a California State park near us with giant sequoias. Want to go hiking?”

“Yeah let’s go. Zumi just finished breakfast and has been wanting to be in nature. You can pack the car and I get her ready,” Zona informed me.

“Cool,” I gathered essential items for a hike. Water, check. Snacks, double check. Sunscreen.... Ummm we all could use a tan. Zona and Zumi hopped into the backseat just as I finished packing. Road Trip! I yelled. 

“Ba-Ba, can you put on Peppa the Pig?” Zumi asked me. I pretended to not hear her request because once Peppa the Pig is playing it's not coming off. So, Peppa the Pig found its way on the radio. The internet connection was spotty and whenever there was a pause, I quickly refreshed the Youtube app hoping that Zumi wouldn’t lose her shit. Suddenly, I heard myself singing “Bong, bing, boo! Bing, bong, bing! Bing, bong, bingerly, bongerly boo!” In the rearview mirror, I noticed Zumi singing along as well. We were harmonizing and riding this musical wave together. Thankfully “everyone loves Peppa”. 

After 120 minutes of Peppa the Pig, we finally arrived at Calaveras Big Tree State Park. I quickly got out of the car. 95 degrees never felt so refreshing. I could finally breathe. Lush greenery served as a backdrop for the parking lot. A jolt of excitement shot through my body. 

“What a beautiful view,” Zona said when she got out of the car. 

“Ma-Ma, hiking time!” Zumi shouted as she threw her fist in the air and walked towards the trail. Her spunkiness made me laugh. Zumi followed Zona towards the trail. I grabbed my camera sensing that a picture perfect moment was coming. 

I quickly caught up with them because Zumi was gathering a pile of sticks. “Ba-Ba! Ma-Ma! I found a walking stick!” Zumi shared her proclamation. Her enthusiasm when making life decisions filled my heart with joy. “Can I lead the way?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Zona responded. “You will be a wonderful leader.” Zumi grabbed her stick, pressed it hard into the dirt, and began to walk. It was heartwarming to be in the presence of two trail blazers. My infatuation with Zumi’s enthusiasm quickly dissolved. She stopped every 10 steps to upgrade her walking stick. Her herky jerky movement annoyed me so I walked around her. Slow ass kid. 

I gained speed like Road Runner every time my foot made contact with the dirt trail. Beep-beep! Walking was essential when I lived in the city. But I grinded to a halt when we moved to the valley. My energy had no external outlet. It sat inside of me until it condensed into a heavy solid dragging me down. It was great to be in my body again. Umm… where’s Zona and Zumi? They were nowhere to be found. However, I felt an overwhelming presence. I looked up. 4 Giant Sequoias towered over me. WOOOOOOOOOOOOW. I could barely see the sky.

 “Hey speed racer, what are you thinking about?” Zona asked me. “Hello…?”

“Huh? What you say? I was mesmerized by the swaying canopy,” 

“What’s on your mind?” Zona asked again.

“It’s kinda silly. I was thinking about the view from the top of the canopy. What animals live up there. If a squirrel has ever fallen from the canopy? And why aren’t there flying squirrels here?”

“That’s not silly. It’s actually nice to see you use your curiosity again,” Zona reassured me. Indeed it was. Looking up at the canopy allowed my imagination to wonder. Something that I let slip to the wayside since I decided to be a stay at home father. All of my attention was focused on Zumi’s development and I didn’t realize that I neglected mine. As a lifelong learner, it was rejuvenating to be in my natural environment. 

“Ba-Ba! I found a pinecone!” Is that Zumi shouting? My eyes drifted back down to earth. Zumi was nowhere to be found. I noticed a line drawn in the dirt. Thank goodness for Zumi and her handy dandy walking stick. It was my turn to catch up to her.

The chatter of the forest became prominent as I followed Zumi’s trail. Twigs snapping underneath my shoes. Woodpeckers joyfully banging their heads against the trees. I felt layers of myself being washed away as I bathed in the sounds of the forest. I was at peace. Suddenly, I felt exposed and my body tightened up. Oddly enough, a blackened sequoia tree named “Mother of the Forest” stared right at me. 

“Beautiful tree huh?” A park volunteer sprouted out of the blue.  

“Ugh… yes it is. The black part really stands out,” I responded. How long has the park volunteer been there?

“In 1854, people stripped this sequoia of its bark, which is its protection against fire. In 1908, a fire broke out in this grove. The black spots are where this tree was charred,” 

“So this tree is dead?”

“Yeah, it is. All the way down to the roots,” The park volunteers said nonchalantly. 

 “Then how is it still standing?” I asked 

“Good question. Sequoias have shallow roots that spread out wide and interlock with the other sequoias. So maybe that’s how it's standing. Sorry to cut the conversation short, but I see visitors walking off trail where there are young sequoias growing. Enjoy the rest of your day,” The park volunteer paced off into the distance. To my surprise, Zona and Zumi had been a couple of feet away from me. 

“Zona, did you hear that? This tree has been dead for over 100 years. It still has the determination to keep standing. It's pretty resilient.”

“Aren’t we all?” Zona posed back to me. 

Her comment stunned me because my time in Sacramento has been more doom than bloom. My father passed. I quit my job at a mental health non-profit. Ironically enough to protect my mental wellbeing. Only to fuck it up more by accumulating credit card debt taller than these sequoias. The maraschino cherry on top was when Zona was diagnosed with cervical cancer and we had a miscarriage. 

I tried to contain my feelings before a blaze broke out. However, the energy from these frequent flare ups was just too much to hold. A wildfire broke out in my life. I was the catalyst. I let myself burn to the point where I didn’t know who I was. 

But somehow I’m still standing.

Ba-Ba! Ma-Ma! Hold me!” Zumi cried out loud. At this point we hiked for almost 2 hours. She was at her limit. I picked up Zumi and we made our way back to the parking lot. As we got closer to the car, I noticed people standing above ground. Is that a giant stump? Indeed it was. 

“Can I get down?” Zumi's energy picked up when she saw the wooden stairs. “Ma-Ma want to walk the stairs?” I put Zumi down and she grabbed Zona’s hand. The two of them headed for the stair.

“You got lucky. A lot of people were here just a minute ago,” Another volunteer informed me.

“Dang, you volunteers just pop out from the ground huh?”

“Yeah we do,” The volunteer chuckled. 

“This stump is impressive. Must’ve been a tall tree,” I said. 

“The stump is over 25 feet in diameter and around 280 feet tall when it was standing. This tree was 1,244 years old when it was cut down in 1853,” The volunteer responded.

“Cut down?”

“Yeah, people were so excited to showcase these sequoias when they were discovered. It took 5 men 22 days to drill holes into this tree before it fell over a couple of days later. You should go up before other visitors come along. Take advantage of having the space to yourself,” The volunteer suggested. 

“Good looking out.” I walked up the stairs to the center of the stump. My eyes noticed tree rings rippling outwards. 1,244 years packed so neatly. The legacy of this sequoia was on full display. Years of good growth, slow growth. How the tree tilted towards the light as it grew. Even though there was no canopy, the aura of this sequoia tree draped over me. Even though its trunk was missing, I felt the stable presence of this sequoia. The tree’s soul spoke to my soul. Providing a reminder that one’s spirit can exist in any condition and transcend time. 

My soul needed to hear this message. I thought about my own existence. What am I leaving behind? It dawned on me that my writings and photos tell the stories of my life like the rings of a tree. Through my stories, people could find comfort in their emotions by reading about mine. Gain the wisdom they need by leaning on the insights I have learned. Have a sense of community knowing that we are connected at the root of it all. 

But before others can connect to me, I have to reconnect to myself

Reflective question: What connects/reconnects you to yourself? Feel free to share in the comments.