The World Tree
A short creation story about life, emotions, and purpose.
(c) 2024 J. D. Osborne-McGavin. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used in the creation or training of generative AI or natural language models.
The World Tree
By J. D. Osborne-McGavin
In the beginning, there was a tree, and from its branches grew a flower.
When the flower blossomed, it shone brightly, bringing light to the nothingness.
After some time had passed, the flower withered and lost its petals, but the petals retained their shine.
They scattered, most drifting far from the tree. So far, in fact, that they could only be seen as small points of light a great distance from the tree.
The last petal to fall saw that its companions had spread themselves far and wide and realized that, if it were to do the same, it would leave the tree with no light except the small, distant points the others had become.
And without light, the tree's beauty would be forever hidden.
This petal stayed close and bathed the tree that bore it in light.
"What is your name, you who did not stray?" the tree asked.
"*Sol*," the petal replied.
From the remains of the flower *Sol* and the others once belonged grew a round fruit.
"What is that?" *Sol* asked the tree.
"Earth," the tree said. "The offspring of you and your brethren."
When Earth fell from the branch, it struck one of the tree's uncovered roots and split open.
From its pulp, came soil.
From its juice, rivers and oceans.
From its seeds, a multitude of creatures.
Some seeds were carried into the rivers and oceans. These became the fishes, the whales, the otters, the beavers.
Others lay upon the soil and became the land dwelling creatures. The lions, the bears, the hares, the squirrels, the skunks, the wolves.
As time passed, more flowers blossomed and more petals scattered into the distance. None stayed as close to the tree as *Sol*.
More fruits grew and fell, but none of these struck the tree as Earth had done. Instead, they remained intact and circled *Sol*.
"What are these?" *Sol* asked.
"Planets," the tree replied. "My gift to you for remaining close and providing me your light."
More time passed, more flowers blossomed, more petals scattered, and more fruit fell.
As more planets encircled *Sol*, it became distracted by their incessant demands for *Sol*'s light and warmth. *Sol* began drifting away from the tree to provide the planets more light.
The tree despaired, for its own gifts had drawn *Sol* away from it. In its distress, the tree's leaves turned all manner of color: gold, yellow, red, orange, brown.
But even this did not return *Sol*'s attention to the tree.
When *Sol* failed to notice the tree's plight, its leaves withered and died, gathering on the soil surrounding the tree. There, the leaves decayed, introducing sadness, longing, and jealousy to the world.
"What happened to your beautiful leaves?" *Sol* asked when it finally returned to find the tree's once full canopy now bare.
"Without your light, I have no need for my leaves, no reason to flower, and no one to gift fruit to."
"If I promise to stay near, will you grow beautiful again?"
"Yes," the tree replied. Soon, its branches began to bud, its leaves returned, and flowers once again blossomed.
Relief washed over *Sol* to see the tree's beauty return. But as its concern for the tree lessened, the clamors for attention from the planets once again became too loud for *Sol* to ignore and it began to drift away.
The tree had begun to grow fruit once more, but seeing *Sol* drift away, breaking its promise, the tree again fell into despair. The fruit did not ripen, but instead rotted on branch and fell to the ground much like the leaves had before.
This malformed fruit, spoiled by the tree's anger, hatred, and hurt, decayed, releasing those unto the world.
When *Sol* continued to drift away, the tree once again tried to draw *Sol*'s attention by changing the color of its leaves. But still *Sol* did not notice the tree's attempts to win back its attention.
But the creatures did.
Foxes in particular, having routinely witnessed both the tree's silent goodbye to *Sol* every nightfall and the tree's joy the following dawn, were moved by the tree's plight. They soon grew fur from the same palette of the tree's foliage as an act of solidarity with the tree, which had provided everything for them.
Still other creatures, birds in particular, found beauty in the tree's colorful display and began to wear all manner of colors hoping, like the tree, to catch the attention of those they pined for.
While bearing bright colors helped birds win the affection of one another, the tree once again failed to draw *Sol* back to it. And, once again, the tree shed its leaves in despair, further polluting Earth with its misery.
When *Sol* returned and found the tree bare, it apologized.
"I am sorry for drifting away for so long, but the planets have their own trees, too, who also despair much like you when I cannot provide them enough attention."
"Am I not the first among them?" the tree asked. "Did you not grow from my stem, and did your fruit not form Earth?"
"Yes," *Sol* replied. "But were the planets not borne by you just as Earth was, and I was? And were they not gifts from you to me, for remaining close unlike all the others?"
"Gifts for staying close should not drive us apart."
"Do you regret creating them?" *Sol* asked. "A part of you lives in them, and being gifts from you to me, I cannot neglect them."
The tree looked upon all it created: the planets, the distant points of light, Earth and all the creatures that inhabit it, and lastly to *Sol*.
"No, I do not regret anything. Where there was once nothing, there is now warmth, light, and life."
*Sol* looked to the tree's bare branches and the rotting leaves at the base of its trunk. "But there is now also suffering," it said.
"Yes."
"Then why do you not regret?"
"The world was once empty and I was alone. None took refuge in my branches and my leaves had no purpose. But where once was only darkness, there is now light, and where once was devoid of life, there is now all manner of creature. I have found purpose in creation, and all I have created has purpose."
"What is my purpose?" *Sol* asked.
"Your purpose is to create light. And in doing so, you have also brought warmth and nourishment to all I have created."
"But in doing so I have brought you suffering."
"Yes. But more joy than suffering."
*Sol* watched as a pair of bucks clashed antlers near the tree's trunk and squirrels quarreled among its branches. "What is their purpose?" it asked.
"The purpose of all I have created is to create."
"But that brings them suffering, too."
"Yes," the tree said again. "But more joy than suffering."
*Sol* thought on this for quite some time. Long enough for the tree to bud, regrow its leaves, flower, and bear fruit once more. Eventually, it asked, "You do not regret creating all that you have created, including the planets with whom you must now share my light, because the act of creation has brought more joy than suffering to you?"
"Not just to me," the tree replied, "but to all creation. All that I have created has brought more joy than suffering to the world, and all that they have created has brought more joy than suffering to the world, and all that they themselves have created will one day bring more joy than suffering to the world."