In Crater Lake, Oregon, there’s a mysterious hemlock tree that could give us all a little guidance. It’s at least 450 years old, and it’s dead. No branches, no leaves, no root system. In fact, it’s been reduced to a 34-foot long trunk that floats through the lake. And here’s the kicker: it’s been floating in the lake for over 100 years, upright. Yes, vertically. It was floating vertically through the Spanish influenza of 1918, and it will likely remain floating vertically through COVID. It sticks up about 4 feet above the water, and is anchored by 30 submerged feet of trunk. And it roams around the lake. People have been documenting its roaming since the turn of the 20th century.
One time, in 1988, people tied it up near Wizard Island so it wouldn’t endanger lake traffic. A storm promptly blew in from nowhere, so they released the tree, and the skies cleared immediately. He’s known as The Old Man of the Lake, and no one quite understands how he got vertical in the first place, or why he hasn’t sunk completely.
Sometimes, during these days of COVID and screen time and everything else, I feel a little like I’m a waterlogged trunk with my head barely staying above water. And I look with reverence at this hemlock that’s been doing it for about 124 years. And I wonder: how has this old man accepted his fate with such grace and dignity? Instead of a decaying mass of organic matter, he has become legend. He has become a symbol of persistence, resilience, fluidity. He’s buffered by the waves -- sometimes he moves as much as four miles in one day -- but the elements don’t change his core essence. In the words of Dave Grimes, a Ranger at Crater Lake, “He is blown by the wind, but he’s not rocked by the waves.”
We could all use a little of this once mighty hemlock’s wisdom right now. If you’re ready to settle into some of your core calmness, try this.
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