The Hidden Work of Roots

A tree gives us plenty to look at above ground: the shape of its branches, the texture of its bark, the light moving through its leaves. Beneath it, roots do different kinds of work. Larger woody roots help anchor the tree and transport water and minerals; smaller feeder roots absorb what the tree needs from the soil. The system can extend well beyond the branches overhead, and its growth depends on the conditions around it. What keeps the tree standing reaches farther, and involves more, than we can see from the trunk. Colorado State University Extension

Day 17 in SineDay is Foundation. The image of roots offers one way into its invitation to consider what supports continuing action. Human lives have their own complications, and a tree cannot tell us how to live. Still, the image can widen our attention. When something has become a dependable part of our life, we may explain it by saying we made a commitment. There is often more to the account: familiar circumstances, help we have come to rely on, and small pleasures that make us glad to return.

A journal can give those less visible parts a place in the story. Looking back over the times we actually did something we cared about, we may notice details we left out of our explanation. Perhaps a regular conversation continued because both people remembered to suggest the next one. Perhaps we kept making something because there was someone with whom we could talk about the awkward parts. An interest may have lasted partly because we were allowed to be beginners together. Writing about these occasions gives support a more particular meaning than determination alone can provide.

That recognition can change how we understand our own effort. We still chose to show up. We also had circumstances that made showing up possible, and sometimes another person was helping maintain them. A shared responsibility may have been quietly taken care of. Someone may have listened often enough that we no longer had to explain why the work mattered. These contributions can become so familiar that they disappear from the account. Giving them words lets us see who and what has helped something important continue.

Some supports become especially clear when they are absent. A conversation stops happening, an arrangement changes, or a familiar place is no longer available. What once seemed effortless begins to require a decision every time. The journal can hold that change without rushing to explain it as a loss of interest. We may discover that we still care deeply, while something we depended on needs attention. Understanding the missing support gives us a more useful place to begin than simply asking more of ourselves.

Foundation, then, can involve learning from what has already helped us keep going. The details in our own experience can show us which arrangements deserve care, which relationships have made room for our interests, and which small pleasures have kept those interests alive. Some of this support may need to be renewed or shared more fairly. Some may simply deserve to be noticed. As we write, the account of our effort becomes fuller. We can see more of what holds it, and become more deliberate about helping those things continue.