Throughout my life, my dad has always loved botany. Anywhere we walk, my dad will point to a tree, name it, then describe it from roots to leaves. I always find myself listening because he creates a lesson from his expertise, even with mundane things.
In the summer of 2020, my dad took me to plant trees on my grandfather’s farm in the mountains of rural Pennsylvania. Pine and ash trees brushed together in a canopy above me and every step would bring me face to face with wildlife, ranging from a deer to a dozen turkey chicks.
“That is a Fraxinus Americana, the white ash,” my dad said while pointing toward piles of dead trees. “They’re being killed by an invasive beetle, but the deer still eat them.”
When we were planting oak trees on the farm, my dad picked up an acorn and told me how acorns influence the environment. Before our conversation, I used to see acorns from an all-or-nothing perspective: they could grow into a deep-rooted, sturdy oak tree or they could continue resting on the forest ground and become nothing.
I translated this perspective of extremes, oak tree or dirt, onto my own life. If I worked hard enough then I would be perfect; if I didn’t, I would fail. My all-or-nothing thinking in pursuit of perfection defined how I saw myself for a long time.
In high school, I’d have bloodshot eyes from late-night studying to earn straight A’s in my classes. Socially, I stretched myself into being someone who could talk to anyone, even though I’m inherently shy. I lacked a true identity because I’d put my well-being aside every day and reached for a standard of perfection I could never attain. I felt trapped and tired by my own expectations of who I wanted to become.
However, after listening to my dad talk about the acorn he picked up, I learned they don’t have to become an oak tree to serve a purpose. My dad explained that some acorns will find their place in the dirt, and others that never planted themselves in the ground would provide shelter or feed the animals that keep the forests lively.
“Acorns give shelter to many minuscule animals, that includes colonies of ants,” my dad said. “Two hundred to 300 ants could live in one of these at any moment of time.”
The truth about acorns, my dad told me, is they serve many purposes based on their surroundings. My dad saw acorns as a piece of an established ecosystem and I realized that life is not strictly constructed, it is unpredictable yet reliable.
I know now that I can have a purpose in life without unbearably stressful expectations. Anything I do will be worth something, even if I’m not sure what that is.
Since discovering this truth, I’ve started to use acorns as a positive metaphor for my life. I am someone who aims high and gives my all. I’ve realized I can’t be so hard on myself when I falter socially or academically, and I can’t create motivation through strict standards for a desired but challenging future. I no longer chase perfection but instead live life with the intent of happiness.
My goal is to use my ambition and discover interests to have a positive relationship with myself in the future. I find time to strengthen my individuality through hobbies, like reading or writing for enjoyment instead of just doing schoolwork. I’ve also found contentment in friendships with people who understand me and I can be myself around.
This conversation with my dad gave me a greater understanding of the subtleness of life. In retrospect, it influenced how I treat myself and lead my life. I now see that I am more than my mistakes and can grow from my imperfections.
My dad’s wisdom in nature has guided me into who I am. With a transition of perspective, I have begun to pursue a life I can truly enjoy. Like an acorn, I can’t predict what my outcome will be, but I’ll always have a purpose.
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