The Fig Tree in Proximity

There is a large fig tree that I have been observing since moving here. It is a rare source of insight and shade, and during these times in particular, I am ever so grateful.

So I will start with the offering of its feminine quality and this I perhaps will elaborate on further into this essay or in another. It is a sense of its generosity and intuitiveness.

It is very much a maternal type of tree, leaves and branches open, dropping its first tiny fruits as a gesture of offering to the ground, to those that cannot climb, to the earth itself in replenishment.

Throughout the days since Pesach, I've been noticing increasing numbers of tiny fruit on the ground. Just tossed here and there randomly. Some released by the winds, some by the birds that flock to its branches. Some, I would think by the tree itself in a method of *release* such as one would exhale the breath or release a clenched fist.

I notice its self grooming and fastidiousness where it lets go of only the very dry leaves, letting them crumple into yellowed half-spheres, this too to fortify the parched land, caked heavy with clay residue when not in sand deposits. No doubt the leaves possess good nutrition and serve well as mulch around the roots.

It is a hardy tree, drought resistant, asking nothing really for itself, only to offer its fruits and shade, a parallel drawn as it must, between the amounts of rain (which were short and lacking this year) and the fruit growth, which appears to be slow.

An interesting note here is that I did not notice fruit at ALL last year during the Shmitta. None on the ground. None on the tree. Was this tree observing the law of the Land, or perhaps just this year it reached maturity and is yielding its first?

According to a guidebook for the indigenous plants of Israel, the fig fruit is supposed to ripen in August. By the looks of the fruit right now that would make for very fast growth. Perhaps the intense heat of Tammuz hastens this process. Right now the fruit are very tight, small, in clusters of 3-5 on each *eye*. I do not notice many insects, or blemishes on its limbs.

During the severe sand storm that descended on the Land a few months ago, this tree put up a mighty fight. Not easily bendable, or even lithe, it allowed for all the raging air, hot, sandy and ferocious to pass through it, letting the weakest branches go if needed - but those roots - held more than steady. The highest bow reaching the roof did manage to loosen and tear down some tiles in its struggle against the Chamsin. The tiles broke, the bow not.

It is intuitive and has affinity for its neighbor the olive. I see them dancing together and I am struck by their compatibility with one another. The olive is very stiff and proper - aloof - yet with the fig it softens much and allows some frivolity into its sphere, although the dance is hardly one of abandon. More like a soft wind shuffle.

Birds noticed alighting: yellow-bellied cardinal (for lack of a better name), sparrows in all their varieties, pigeons and the black hummingbird. A few weeks ago there was much flurry and frenetic activity when mating season was in full play. I could see and hear the loud calls, shrieks and fights that all took place within the great leaves.

They would shoot through, resting on one branch, calling for a mate, go to another - hop - and look around - wait - listen - call and if there was an intruder in the midst - whoosh in a flash - tussle of feathers and with a zoom off they'd fly off to another tree to have it out. One way or another. By the nests and baby birds that have emerged, things have worked out well. Now there is the business of gathering food and patches for the odd nest's bare spots. But song is constant throughout.

From the fig's openness, soft energy, I have learned that these traits are a necessity for survival in these parts and in the world at large. Allowing, sharing, flowing, being fruitful, flexible and hardy. It is the way of one of the 7 species called Fig. Teh-aina. Very sweet indeed.

Some interesting quotes and symbolic meanings of the Fig

Zohar and other sources