Each day, when I see so many things around me that seem to be able to work and rest at the same time, I always wish I could understand their secret. When trees sway and shake in the wind, they seem to be working hard, tossing their limbs around in a spirited way, but they also seem completely calm and comfortable. Perhaps their secret is that they don’t resist the wind, but simply lean back and let go, so the wind actually is the worker, not the trees. In this way, trees, it could be, can sway for hours and days in almost a restful way. I see this also in the leaves as they fall in autumn, insouciantly sailing to the ground as though they’re almost sleeping instead of working, and yet covering, in a matter of days, limitless square miles of land with their colors. This is an astonishing achievement, one that would take we humans a supreme effort, and yet the leaves accomplish it in the quietest, comfiest way. I could learn from these peaceful laborers, these trees and their leaves that look like they love their work. I could learn to lean back and laugh as least as often as I strain and struggle. I could float more often like fall leaves do, or sway with troubles instead of scuffle with them, sway like leaves and trees that take life easily and thus live both forcefully and softly.