We don’t have to wait to do things that we think will one day matter – truly matter. The future is already happening today. Our legacy isn’t simply a far off act, a foundation, or a will that we may leave behind should life show us such fortune. It’s in every choice and every intention in the here and now. It’s in the dialogue. Our relationships. Our stories. Our hopes. And all that was rooted in the tree that one man planted.
One hopeful morning, a man bent down and dug into the earth, carving out a small hole. He turned the soil within, added some minerals, and the placed into it a small, oddly shaped seed. Covering this seed with just a bit of soil, he gave it a small amount of water and continued pouring outward in a winding circle. He looked to the east as the sun was rising, and he welcomed it to warm the bed of this small seed.
Then he pulled up a small chair, sat down, and he waited.
Soon, several neighbors came passing by. They took note of this man and his chair, but continued on their way in conversation.
He waited until dusk. Then standing to take his thoughts and chair homeward, he closed his eyes and said a quiet prayer over the small treasure within the earth.
As the days, weeks, and months went by, the man returned whenever he could to sit by his small seedling, which began to grow and take strength in the warmth of the sun, more and more.
Soon enough, other neighbors and village leaders began to notice this young tree and would stop longer to have dialogue with its committed caretaker. They shared the news and thoughts about life in honest, comfortable moments. The man asked them questions, and they provided insight. They asked questions of him, and he provided his experience.
As the seasons came and went, the tree continued to grow. And many of the village leaders now gathered regularly together in community under the widening shade of this tree. They even brought their own chairs – or a stool, or any other substitute – to take their place in the leadership round. They brought fruits to eat, they carved wooden figures of the stories told, and began to leave the chairs and stools under the shade of the tree.
Eventually, the younger warriors and adventurers began joining the gatherings as well. Everyone knew they could seek perspective – and give it – at the tree. They shared stories of the past, ideas about the future, and they made commitments to the things they would do together. Upon returning to the tree, they would report on the results and share challenges with one another. They inspired one another. They held each other accountable, bonded to their pledges and passions.
One day, toward the end of such a gathering, someone asked the man why his tree was still barely large enough to cover them. It had been growing there for years, but now they easily outnumbered the width of the tree.
“This tree still looks small,” the man replied. “But be patient, and it will become quite large. We just cannot see it yet.”
So they continued to meet around the tree, continued to go out and grow the kingdom together, and the years continued. They still returned to their chairs, they carved new memories into crafts, they ate mangoes and other fruits, and they shared the wonders of the wide world they had explored.
With more time, the tree also became a place to recognize what they had accomplished together, what they shared together, and who they really were – together. It was a place to honor the past and look to the future. As newcomers joined over time, they brought new ways of thinking and in turn became affected by the culture and legacy that had grown up around the great tree.
Eventually, the younger people became old. And the older leaders passed away. The man who had planted the tree also became frail, and soon he visited the tree less and less. Yet he continued to make his way there whenever he knew there was a gathering. Every time, he relished in the new faces and new ideas that had joined this community, and he added them in his heart and his soul to the countless memories that came before them.
One final day, he felt his spirit ready to move on from the earth. He asked to be carried to the tree he had planted so long ago. His neighbors carried him to the tree they knew he loved so much. As he sat leaning against the now great width of the tree’s trunk, he remembered all of the many rich conversations, celebrations, and planning that had been shared around him.
One of his neighbors asked, “did you really plant this great tree yourself, Bwana?”
“Yes,” he said.
“But you could have planted anything,” they continued. “Mango for eating, acacia for firewood, teak for building, olive for carving….why did you choose something that would take so long to see grow?”
“Yes,” he said. “All of those are good things. But I have grown such trees in my time. I’ve grown forests. I’ve cut them down. I’ve built great structures and crafted fine things. All of that was wonderful and good. But it was all for me.”
“But this tree,” he said. “This tree was not for me. It wasn’t even meant to provide anything in its fruit, its branches, or its roots. This tree was planted to do a different task – to remember. Because all of the great things that have been done, and those who have done them, now belong to the memory of this tree. It has lived longer than those who saw the past with their own eyes, and now it carries those stories to the next ones. But it is nothing without the legacy that is rooted here, lifted here, born here.
“I planted this tree with a hope that it would remain long after we are gone.”
____________________
A thousand years went by.
Through many adventures, big and small, many returned to the tree for fellowship, for insight, and for direction. They reflected on who they were and who they were becoming. The legacy tree was known to all who sought such knowledge.
Then one day, when the sun was at its highest, a small girl walked under the tree and noticed a fruit had fallen from one of the higher branches far above. She picked it up and examined where a part of the fruit had been impacted in the fall. Within it, several oddly shaped seeds could be seen. Unlike other fruits and seeds she had seen, none of these were the same. The girl sat and continued to reflect for a while under the shade of the great tree.
Suddenly, an exciting thought came to her.
The girl plucked out one of the seeds that seemed almost to call to her. Then she put it securely in the shirt pocket of her school uniform and continued walking home. All the way back, in her mind she combed through the many places where she would decide to plant this seed.
She finally reached home and walked past the door, past the house and past the animals that grazed in the garden. She walked to a small hill rising up to meet the sun, and there she knelt down to plant the small seed in the rich, red soil. The girl smiled when her work was done and sat down next to a small goat that had joined her to watch her curious activity.
And she waited.
_____________________
Reflection
Much of what we do in life is about the here and now. In fact, nearly all we do is focused on something of importance in the day, the week, or at most a twelve month operating plan. We certainly have visions and dreams, some that are years into the future. But watch what anyone does, and you will most of the time find it is driven by goals and a timeline that are near-term focused – because it often seems it has to be.
Many of the greatest leadership teams I’ve worked with are guided by compelling missions, visions, and values. Yet even they are often curtailed by the annual goals, compensation models, and career milestones that are more or less aligned to such horizons. To be fair, it is difficult – and perhaps wrong – to always remained focused on the distant unknown ahead when other needs are clear and present.
But at the same time, it’s possible to find balance. With a little discipline, partnership, and grace, you can likely do both. One such leader said to me, “the decisions we’re making now should be for the better of the leaders who will come 100 years from now.” This was the same leader with more weekly surgical procedures than any peer in the hospital.
The greatest things – short or long term – are done in the present with legacy in mind. They don’t look for the right directive. They don’t wait for the right policy to be made, or even the resources to already be there. They are done because they are the right things to do. The rest will follow, because the world is looking for great things and people for them to follow.
- What is something you have been wanting or needing to do but can’t find the right time or “rationale?”
- What are your go-to criteria for decision-making? You may look at project objectives, budgets, annual goals, economic constraints, a well-formed strategy, or Wall Street expectations. But how do values factor into it as well? How does the vision take weight in the matter – really, not in a fleeting moment of acknowledging a check box. How does the future you see 50, 100, or more years from now come back into the decisions you make today as a leader?
- What do you want people to remember about who you are or what you did?
- What will your legacy be?
These things matter, as much as you matter. The future – your legacy – is already happening today. And that is a good thing.
Let’s act accordingly.
