Heaven up here: the joy of urban tree climbing
Tree climbing is a curious form of travel. Ascending, we cross the divide between two worlds, and the people passing beneath us become as separate as fish in an aquarium. Discovering a trunk with a clear path to the crown is enticing as finding a ladder to the moon; this is the essence of climbing, a method of passing between two spheres - the humdrum everyday and the elevated.
Putting physical space between ourselves and our daily routines cannot be overvalued. After days spent holding carriage or escalator handrails, touching bark is bracing; like a shock of cold water. No other surface compares to living wood, and climbing brings a feeling of reversion, a step back from a wholly artificial environment. Tree tops are spaces that renew our appreciation for small pleasures, and being aloft magnifies the commonplace: reading a book, talking to a friend or enjoying a cup of airborne coffee. Sitting on a branch provides a kind of momentary amnesia, an immersion in the natural world that allows us to forget street-level worries. The canopy is a place of quiet revelation, and when we sit alone in the greenwood, a new solitude is experienced - not the isolation of an indifferent city but the solace of clear thought. People move through the street looking through a wide-angle lens, hyperaware of peripherals but ignoring the trees growing in their midst. Crossing a road or making a phone call, we are too preoccupied to look up. By climbing trees we can apply a microscope to our surroundings; suddenly the smallest textures of bark and branch captivate our attention.
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