Trees for the forest

 

We’ve all heard the expression. Essentially, the concept involves small things and a large thing. Can’t see one because the other dominates, usually offered as the idea that one cannot capture the full picture because of the attention given to a handful of pieces.

But have you ever wondered about when the small things disappear completely because of the creation of the new large thing?

Think pancakes and tomato sauce and such.

We’ve all likely mixed up a sauce. If not by making it from scratch, then by pouring a jar into a pan and adding wine and assorted spices. When it’s done, and we’re plating up some delicious linguini with tomato sauce goodness, we rarely think about that shot of merlot and spoonful of garlic we added. We just enjoy the meal.

When we discuss the original saying, the elements remain intact. In short, even if we do visualize the entire forest, we can still readily identify the idea that the structure of the forest is trees.

Where I’m headed here is something entirely different. One doesn’t usually think cookies and at the same time have a grasp of butter, eggs and cinnamon. I’m wondering about the moments where we lose the trees. Poof. Gone.

A car is a tool. A resource. Nothing complicated there. It provides a way for getting from point a to point b. Simple. That is its purpose.

For some of us, there are needs from a vehicle that adjust what we might be looking to drive. Consideration allowed for what we need to get from point a to point b, or the process of getting from point a to point b. More passengers might mean a minivan. Long trips could trigger investigations into the best gas mileage. Equipment to for work brings trucks into the conversation.

Want to listen to music or radio or whatever during the journey? Suddenly the dashboard options and subscriptions services enter the debate.

A car. Simple? Again, sure. But perhaps not so basic.

The operation of a car is a checklist of actions. Unlock the door, get inside and fasten a seatbelt, insert a key into the ignition, shift into reverse… step one, step two, step three… and eventually the car is in motion. Do you ever look at your car and think seatbelt and glove compartment? Chances are, when you do, it’s for a specific reason and not a general observation.

A car is a car, not a steering wheel, rearview mirror and trunk, until you need to consider those. A cookie is a cookie, not sugar and flour, until you don’t have enough flour to make the recipe. There are times to consider the whole, and times to consider the parts. And I would contend that there isn’t much that truly draws us to one perspective or the other upon first glance.

And maybe that’s the word. Perspective. If you’re in your backyard, looking off into the distance, it’s a forest. If you’re sitting in the middle of the woods, enjoying a campfire and you glance around, it’s trees. The ingredients—so to speak—could be irrelevant.

It becomes situational. Not necessarily need driven, and not perfectly location driven, but definitely personal observation driven.

When does a collection of things become something else? And, is there a point where it becomes difficult to go back to what it was? If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does the tree exist at all?

 

If you have any comments or questions, please e-mail me at Bob@inmybackpack.com