I traveled to Tarrytown this weekend for the New York State Arborists’ TCC. The weather was amazing, and so were the people, the entire community of arborists and volunteers that were present to make it happen.

I had this idea in my mind before traveling to the competition of what I wanted to do, what it was my desire was. It was entirely about me, the goals that I had. Points and appearance and ranking and that whole bit. At least, that’s what the whole machine wanted me to think. The mechanism, the program, the scoresheet, the organization, the numbers, the times, the places, the audibles and so forth. You get scored. You’re either good or bad or in between, so faith will have it.

But I know better. I know the place we get put in isn’t the place we have to stay. If tree climbing competitions have taught me anything, it’s that.

First I saw an old friend, and then another and another. We were laughing and hugging and joking and drinking coffee near gear check. The dogs were playing, secured footlock needed some help getting set up, and some people were regretting a late night out and an early morning to rise. There was commentary and questions about scoring and scenarios. There were some mumbles and grumbles and heehaw and yeehaw. In anything was everything.

Great Sycamore and Ginko and Basswood stood tall in front of the Hudson River at the fine Lyndhurst Mansion property. Every now and then a train rumbled by on the tracks below the property, and the climber at AR was drowned out for a bit by the sound. I wondered if any judges missed something good, and laughed hastily. People were cheering and bells were ringing and climbers were saying ‘stand clear’. The buzzer sounded, the crowd sighed, another airhorn, and the drill is raising the dummy again. A throw line swishes, a DQ, a personal best, moms and dads and families and friends.

A good friend of mine suggested I give a listen to a philosopher by the name of Alan Watts. Many of you may be familiar with him. Well, anyway, I gave a specific clip a quick listen, and I’ll include the link below because its a good clip, but at one point he references this concept of how the organism always transcends the mechanism, and we can’t explain how, that it’s just too beautiful and complex an occurrence to put into words.

Well I was reflecting back on my time I spent as a tech in the master’s event tree. It was a basswood. And at the very top of that basswood I sat, tucked away with my rope and my phone and a pee bottle in case certain situations were to transpire. And on one of the limbs there was a tiny wood pecker hole. And there must have been thirty or forty bees buzzing all around me, and at one point I had an ant crawling on my shirt. Throw balls flew past me, and I swear I was so in tune with this experience that I was able to read ‘weaver 12oz.’ on one of the bags flying by. As if I could almost stop time for a moment to really see what was happening.

I’m absolutely sure that no one else saw that woodpecker hole. And I believe that’s exactly how the organism transcends the machine.

Sometimes all you need is a different view.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCxRSiaFciI