WHEN I WAS YOUNG, trees were my friends. I’d climb up among the branches of the ones beside our three-story apartment building until I was higher than the roof. Perched among clouds and birds, I found comfort and ease. The friendliest tree was the sycamore. It had such smooth skin beneath my fingers.
A few years ago, I discovered a past-life (Jataka) tale in which the Buddha himself was the consciousness of a tree. Childhood memories awoke. I remembered my old friends.
Buddhist tradition holds that the Buddha told a number of past-life tales to teach about karma, reveal the unity of all life,
