In honour of Tu b'Shvat - the new year for trees. To learn more about the customs of eating fruits go to The Seven Species of Israel
from the writings of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov; translated by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan
Many types of fruit do not grow in some lands, only because people do not understand.
The world has a foundation stone. Channels emanate from this stone, reaching every land. The Midrash teaches us that the wise King Solomon knew the details of these channels and was therefore able to plant all types of trees.
If people knew the exact location of these subterranean channels, they would be able to grow fruit trees even in these lands. They could grow many that never grow there now.
Each channel has the power to stimulate a particular species. Even if a particular channel does not pass through one land, all channels are intertwined and flow into each other. If one knew the exact place, he could plant any type of tree.
If one knew the location of all channels, he could dig a well and know where to plant trees around it. He could then make any type of tree grow.
The foundation stone of the world constantly rises and descends. If one knows its position, then he knows what to plant at a particular time.
All these things are concealed from the world for some things may not be revealed.
People say that the world is gaining knowledge, but earlier generations made the primary discoveries, and this took the greatest wisdom.
Later generations make discoveries only because earlier ones prepared the way. One generation makes the basic discoveries, and later generations apply them, but the latter contribution is really the smaller.
The Talmud says "If you would not have removed the piece of clay, you would not have found the jewel under it."
There are things that may not be revealed, for if they were revealed, later generations would make an idol of them. There is knowledge that may not be revealed, for later generations would use the basic knowledge and continually add to it, often irresponsibly. They could then develop concepts leading to cataclysmic discoveries.
It is written [Lev. 19:23] "When you enter your land and plant any tree... three years shall its fruit be forbidden to you". The Zohar teaches us that the evil forces of klipah dwell in trees during these first three years.
Earlier generations misunderstood this and thought that they were obliged to worship a tree during the three years that it was under the influence of the klipah. According to their error it was a logical necessity to make such a tree an object of worship.
Thanks Devorah, this "wood-wide-web" video was fascinating!
ReplyDeleteSo it's not just אדם עץ השדה
But also עץ השדה אינטרנט
I guess that should make humans like the www too.
But that only happens with those who have close bonds.
Such as identical twins' quantum entanglement.
I think a lot of people have close bonds, not just twins.
DeleteSure, i only mentioned twins because there's been lots of articles written about their entanglement.
DeleteAlso, the article by R'Nachman was fascinating too! It reminded me of this:
ReplyDeleteYou probably heard the story about the Klausenberger Rebbe zt"l.
I believe the Holocaust inmates were in a forced march.
After they'd fasted the entire Tisha B'Av, the Rebbe passed the word around.
Down the row of men was whispered "the Rebbe said we should dig".
So they dug, and lo & behold, streams of water spouted forth, from the earth.
And they drank the fresh water. The parched men got revived.
A Man Is Like a Tree
ReplyDeleteby Ronald Wayne Copeland
A man is like a tree.
Not in the grand declarations of poets—rooted in righteousness, bearing fruit in due season—but in the quieter, harder truth: that he begins as a seed, becomes a sapling, and only after years of weather does he stand steady enough to offer shade.
Scripture says it plainly:
"He shall be like a tree planted by streams of water,
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither."
— Psalm 1:3
But what is often skipped is the time between planting and bearing.
The years when roots go deep, but nothing shows.
The seasons when storms bend the trunk, and survival is the only fruit.
A man in his youth is a sapling. He needs shelter. He needs structure. He needs other trees nearby—not to be like them, but to learn what it means to grow upward and not fall.
A man in his middle years is forming heartwood. He's been broken and mended. He knows what it costs to stand. His shade is no longer accidental—it is intentional. He offers it freely, but not foolishly.
And a man in his later years? He is a tree near water in the desert.
His presence signals: Life is possible here.
His fruit is not urgency—it is patience.
His counsel is not correction—it is perspective.
His strength is not in dominance—it is in endurance.
But even then, his fruit is not for everyone who passes by.
Not all fruit is ripe when you arrive.
Not all fruit is meant for you.
Some fruit requires discernment to harvest.
Some fruit is bitter until you understand what season you're in.
This is why the Men exists.
Not to perform masculinity, but to cultivate it.
Not to correct young men into older shapes, but to let them grow in proximity to those who have weathered more seasons.
Not to idolize elders, but to honor the time it took them to bear what they now offer.
The tree does not shout about its roots.
It does not demand you notice its rings.
It stands. It offers shade. And those who are ready will sit beneath
A Man's place is in a grove.
Where young men learn that their restlessness is not a flaw—it is the early wind testing their flexibility.
Where middle men discover that their strength is not measured by how much weight they carry alone, but by how many others can stand beside them without competition.
Where older men remember that their value is not in what they can still do, but in what they have already become.
A man is like a tree.
And the measure of his life is not how tall he grew—
but whether anyone rested in his shade,
whether his fruit fed someone when they were hungry,
and whether the seeds he dropped found soil.
This is the work.
Not of building men into monuments,
but of cultivating an environment where they can grow true.
Where the light is sufficient.
Where the water runs clear.
Where the storms are weathered together.
And where, in time, each man becomes what he was planted to be:
Not perfect.
Not superior.
But steady enough to hold what matters.