The Writer That Owns Herself

15 Jun

There’s a tree in Athens, Georgia, that owns itself. A white oak with a strong trunk and lush, green foliage, it’s the only non-human entity in the world that holds legal protection over its own existence.

The tree received this rare gift of self-possession—the right to spread roots, stretch branches, unfurl leaves, and scatter seeds—because it offered its beauty to the world, and in response, the world did what it so seldom does: returned the favor.

As a writer, I crave this same self-possession. To write, and to live off my writing:  that is such stuff as dreams are made on.

In the meantime, I’ve got some growing to do.

This blog is my first green shoot, and with any luck, it will grow into a strong tree with many branches and many roots.

As Antoine de Saint-Exupéry once wrote, “The tree is more than first a seed, then a stem, then a living trunk, and then dead timber.  The tree is a slow, enduring force straining to win the sky.”

For now, I offer you what I can: meditations on literature, writing, and life—and above all, a  desire to win the sky.

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