We never look deeply into the quality of a tree; we never really

Hear the profound words of Jiddu Krishnamurti, sage of the modern age, who taught: “We never look deeply into the quality of a tree; we never really touch it, feel its solidity, its rough bark, and hear the sound that is part of the tree. Not the sound of wind through the leaves, not the breeze of a morning that flutters the leaves, but its own sound, the sound of the trunk and the silent sound of the roots.” At first, his words seem simple—a call to observe a tree. Yet they strike at the very heart of human blindness: our failure to look, to listen, to truly be present with the essence of life.

The meaning of this saying is both literal and symbolic. Literally, Krishnamurti calls us to pause, to perceive the tree not as a background object or decoration, but as a living being with its own dignity, solidity, and voice. Symbolically, the tree becomes a mirror of all life—of people, of relationships, of ourselves. We skim the surface, hearing only the flutter of leaves, but rarely do we seek the roots, the hidden strength, the silent depth. To look deeply into the “quality of a tree” is to look deeply into the quality of existence itself.

The origin of this wisdom lies in the traditions of the ancients. The Druids of the Celts revered oaks as sacred beings, not merely for their shade but for their spirit. In India, the Bodhi tree became the seat of the Buddha’s enlightenment, a symbol of deep stillness and insight. In many cultures, the tree is not an object but a teacher, offering lessons of patience, endurance, and connection. Krishnamurti stands within this lineage, reminding us that the sacred is not in temples alone, but in the living presence of the world, if only we would look and listen.

Consider the story of Sir Isaac Newton, who, legend tells, perceived the fall of an apple beneath a tree and from it discerned the law of gravity. Though the tale is simple, its power lies in his willingness to notice what others ignored. Where many saw only fruit falling, Newton saw the workings of the cosmos. In the same way, Krishnamurti teaches us that to look deeply, to truly attend, transforms the ordinary into the doorway to truth. The tree in his saying is not only bark and branches, but the gateway to awareness.

The lesson is clear: do not pass by the world as though asleep. Do not skim across the surfaces of life, relationships, or even yourself. Look deeply, listen deeply, touch and feel the reality of things. Just as the roots of a tree are unseen yet vital, so too the truths of existence are hidden beneath appearances. If you live only in the flutter of leaves, you will miss the silent power of the trunk, the grounded strength of the roots. Depth of perception is the path to wisdom.

Practical actions must follow. The next time you walk among trees, stop and touch one. Feel the bark beneath your hand. Listen in silence for its stillness. Carry this practice beyond nature—look more deeply at those around you. See not only the “leaves” of their words or actions, but the “roots” of their fears, their hopes, their humanity. And turn inward as well: touch the bark of your own being, listen for the sound of your own roots, and discover the depths you too often ignore.

And so, child of tomorrow, remember Krishnamurti’s call: the world speaks, but we rarely listen. The trees, the people, the very life within you—each has its own sound, its own truth, waiting for your attention. Do not be deaf to it. Do not live only upon the surface. Go deeper. Listen more carefully. Touch more fully. For in that depth lies wisdom, and in that wisdom, the peace that eludes those who rush blindly through life.