a soulful story about selfless love and the human ego
Once, there was a very old tree.
Its arms stretched across the sky like a majestic emperor.
When it bloomed, birds came from far away just to breathe in its fragrance.
When it bore fruit, butterflies danced around it in joy.
Its shade, its branches, its quiet stillness in the wind —
they made it look like a beautiful sculpture etched into the sky.
A little boy used to come play in its shade every day.
And the great tree fell in love with that tiny child.
Yes — elders can love the young,
if they forget they are ‘big’.
The tree had no such pride.
It didn’t even know what ego was.
That’s a sickness only humans suffer from.
Ego always seeks to love upwards —
to gain something, to prove something.
Love, on the other hand, doesn’t care about status.
It simply happens.
And so it happened to the tree.
The boy would come to play near the tree.
But its branches were high,
so the tree would bend down to let the boy pick its flowers and fruits.
Love is always willing to bow.
Ego never bends.
Ego raises its hands even higher so that no one can touch it —
as if being unreachable makes it greater.
But love lowers itself with joy.
The boy would pluck flowers, and the tree would feel ecstatic.
Its whole being would glow.
Love rejoices in giving.
Ego only celebrates when it receives.
As the boy grew older, he started doing more things:
sometimes resting in the tree’s shade,
sometimes eating its fruits,
sometimes weaving crowns of flowers and pretending to be the king of the forest.
Wherever love rains down, kingship blooms.
Wherever ego clouds over, darkness grows.
The boy danced with a crown of blossoms, and the tree swayed in happiness.
He began climbing the tree, swinging from its branches, resting in them.
The tree was delighted.
Love finds joy in being a refuge.
Ego finds joy in snatching shelter away.
But the boy kept growing.
And his visits became fewer.
He had exams to pass, friends to impress, goals to achieve.
Yet the tree waited.
Its very soul whispered, “Come back, come back.”
Because love always waits.
Love is a continuous invitation.
But the boy came less and less.
The tree grew sad.
When love cannot give, it suffers.
When it can share, it blossoms.
Then one day, the boy — now a young man — was passing by.
The tree called out:
“Come! I wait for you! My arms are open!”
The young man said,
“What do you even have to offer me?”
That’s how ego speaks.
It always asks: What will I get?
Love is purpose-less.
It gives just to give.
The tree said, “I have no money, my child.
Money is man’s invention.
That’s why we are so happy — so full of fruit, flowers, and joy.
We don’t carry the burden of currency.”
The boy said, “Then I have no reason to come.”
The tree replied, “Take my fruits. Sell them. Maybe that will help.”
And so the young man climbed up and plucked every fruit —
even the unripe ones.
He broke branches. Leaves fell.
But the tree was happy.
Even in destruction, love rejoices when it can give.
Ego is miserable even when it receives.
The boy didn’t even say thank you.
But the tree didn’t mind.
To be accepted by love is thank you enough.
Years passed.
The boy didn’t return.
He was busy turning money into more money.
The tree waited, like a mother with milk-heavy breasts,
whose child is lost, aching to give and be emptied.
One day, the boy returned — now a man.
The tree shouted, “Come! Let me hug you!”
He said, “Oh please! That’s childish stuff.”
Ego sees love as nonsense.
The tree pleaded, “Swing from my branches! Dance like you used to!”
He said, “I need a house. Can you give me that?”
The tree said, “We trees don’t live in houses. Only humans do.
And look at them —
the bigger their homes, the smaller they become.”
Still, it offered, “Cut my branches and build your house.”
He did just that.
The tree was now a bare stump.
But it was joyful.
Love remains joyful — even when it loses everything.
The man never looked back.
He had his house.
The stump stood in silence.
No leaves, no branches, no birds to sing.
Just a whisper in its soul: “Come back… come back…”
Years passed.
The man returned — now old.
The tree asked, “What else can I do for you?”
He said, “I need a boat to travel far and earn more.”
The tree said, “Cut me down. Use my trunk. Make your boat.
But please… come back safely. I’ll be waiting.”
And he did.
He cut the stump down to a log.
He left.
And the stump — now almost gone — still waited.
Because love waits.
Even when it has nothing left to give.
I once spent a night beside that stump.
It whispered to me,
“He hasn’t returned yet.
Maybe the boat sank.
Maybe he’s lost.
Maybe… he forgot.”
And then it said,
“If I could just hear he’s safe —
even if he never comes back —
I would rest in peace.”
Because now, it had nothing left.
And ego only comes where there’s something to take.
Love — love gives.
That’s all it knows.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Albrt On Unsplash
