Trees have been celebrated and admired by poets throughout history because they represent so much of what defines us as human beings. Nietzsche’s words are particularly memorable: “But it is the same with man as with the tree. The more he seeks to rise into the height and light, the more vigorously do his roots struggle earthward, downward, into the dark and deep—into evil.” Probably everyone has sought shelter under a tree during a storm or found solace in the mighty, silent trunk during moments of solitude. When we make wood our own, it passes through darkness and light once again. What a sound the tree makes when, chopped and felled by human hands, it crashes to the ground. What a sound it makes when the saw blade hews through its girth, cleaving it into planks. And what a sound it makes when, with the hammering and singing of workers, the wood is reassembled, rising once more to the sky, not as nature but as culture, as our place of dwelling. In this way, the wood goes through death to be resurrected to a higher life. Once, it was travelers who sought shelter and support under the tree. Now, at the Arlesheim Clinic, it is the patients who, supported by the wood, find care and healing.
Translation Laura Liska
Image Klinik Arlesheim. Photo: Stijn Poelstra
