Because the coast redwoods are so enormous, one would think that they reproduce using massive cones. However, their cones are only the size of an olive, producing fifty to sixty tiny seeds each in the autumn. The chances that one of these seeds will land in soil with perfect conditions and germinate is minuscule. But it happens.
I learned about another way these trees reproduce when I visited Muir Woods National Monument, outside of San Fransisco—“family circles.” When a coast redwood dies or is cut, new shoots arise around its periphery, out of the fallen tree’s existing roots. The shoots then grow independently, drawing water and nutrients from the original tree’s roots that are already established. Because the canopy is now gone, and the sky has been opened, sunlight is available for the new growth. Eventually, a circle of mature redwoods forms around the place where the first tree stood.
The circles of sister trees that I saw usually surrounded a large redwood that had succumbed to fire, its remaining trunk hollowed and blackened. In a ring around their fallen “mother,” these genetic clones formed a tight circle, each a giant in its own right, reaching over two hundred feet in some rings.
These circles of sisters are beautiful pictures of community. A deceased elder of a community, like the original tree, still has power by virtue of the deep roots that he or she had previously sunk. The root system, the matriarch or patriarch’s deep wealth of wisdom, sustains younger members of the community as they bring forth new growth to carry the elder’s innate intelligence forward. The new iterations draw on the accumulated wisdom, growing in the light that the elder left for them.
A circle is eternal, not linear. Wisdom is not always passed down from one member to another in a linear progression. Rather, it can be an outward expansion, like spreading ripples in water. One life has an effect on those closest to them, then the legacy of their life’s experiences expands ever wider. Imagine a community as a forest of these circles.
The coast redwood’s roots are relatively shallow for its height. Most deciduous tree root systems are as deep as the tree is tall. For the coast redwood, even though they can stand over three hundred feet, their roots are only about twelve feet deep. How can these massive giants stand upright when strong winds blow? By intertwining their roots with their neighbors, an individual tree relies on the strength of community to keep standing. Isn’t this how community is supposed to function? Only by supporting one another can one person withstand the blows life sends.
Standing in the center of one of these family circles, I offered a prayer of gratitude for all of the people in my life who are now gone, but who have gifted me with their wisdom. I continue to draw on that wealth as I grow in the light they left behind..