It’s About Time

We say “It’s about time!” and rush to another event, meet people, eagerly hunt for fresh feelings. 

“It’s about time…”, — a tree calmly witnesses rhythmical changes of seasons and puts on another ring as a new note in its inner private diary. 

Trees are perfect observers of time. Without being seduced by the promises of moving in space, they can truly concentrate on the fourth dimension, on the flow of days, month, years. Alive and mortal, as we are, they are also aware of the tender vulnerability of youth and the bitter tragedy of the end. Only existential changes reach their attention. Calmly moving ever-so-slightly with each gentle breeze, they probably don’t even notice us, as we run our errands in hectic. We are too quick, too fidgety, too superficial. 

Still, there is one thing about time, that we know better. We know the power of a moment, when a sudden beauty of the here and now becomes so intense, that the flow of time loses its significance and we feel blessed with a possibility of a glimpse into the mystery of eternity. 

And we share this knowledge with trees. Sculptures that we build in parks perform for the trees, they freeze moments to tell them about our existence, our passions, our sense of an instant.