The death of each of us is in the order of things; it follows
life as surely as night follows day. We can take the tree of
life as a symbol. The human race is the trunk and
branches of this tree, and individual men and women are
the leaves which appear one season, flourish for a
summer and then die. I too am like a leaf on this tree and
one day I shall be torn off by a storm, or I shall simply
decay and fall and mingle with the earth at it’s roots. But,
while I live I am conscious of the tree’s flowing sap and
steadfast strength. Deep down in my consciousness is
the consciousness of a collective life, a life of which I
am a part as to which I make a minute but unique
contribution. When I die and fall, the tree remains
nourished to some small degree by my manifestation of
life. Millions of leaves have preceded me and millions will
follow me; but the tree itself grows and endures.
