Ode to the fig
Why have trees from the genus ficus, ordinarily known as fig trees, figured so much in human imagination and spiritual life? Because in them, we see a reflection of ourselves, albeit a purer and more organic form. Gnarled brown limbs, stilted feet that purposefully stand their ground give them a human, or rather, superhuman stature. That is why men have bestowed them with spirits, evil and benign. Fed them with the souls of angels and demons. The legend, the myth, has been cultivated by human actions as well. Men have left groves of fig trees untouched, while felling the other trees around them, contributing to their longevity and seeming immortality. But the power of fig trees is not just a figment of human imagination. Extracts of their roots, bark, fruits and stems have been known to cure a hundred ailments. Being able to return health and life, why should they not be seen as harbinger of life?
And then there is their intimacy with the wasps. They admit wasps into their most private parts in a play of birth and death. When they evolve, their soulmates evolve with them, changing hand in hand to avoid certain death for those left behind.
Figs look ancient, their fibrous roots like the beards of wise wizards that touch the ground. They are hardy and tenacious, shedding leaves during dry weather spells and rejuvenating when the conditions favour them. When men see this, they see fig trees in the skin of the immortal. Look at these trees and realize how they outlast the human form. The Buddha's ultimate contemplation under the Bodhi tree, ficus religiosa, led to enlightenment.
Fruiting from their stem. What next? Like creating unnatural selves, they sprout their seeds in prolific fashion, for the next cycle of birth and death.
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