My fig tree
Unfortunately, I am getting into this nasty habit of delaying these posts and it seems to take a year to actually sit down and get a blog post out. A whole year of thoughts and feelings to unpack, time for reflection.
Last time I managed to summon the energy to put thought to keyboard was at the beginning of my Utah, USA trip towards the end of 2025. I termed this my ‘opportunistic’ era – I was beginning to surrender to the idea of life being separated into eras. Driving the idea of purpose being in a constant state of change, not fixed.
After that I returned to Cape Town, South Africa before embarking on yet another USA trip but to Las Vegas, then Utah again. This was followed by a trip to Northern Italy and Berlin, Germany. I went back to Berlin, Germany for a month and now find myself typing away in Namibia for a work trip.
I want to touch on each of these trips and how it links to the grander theme of this blog, but before I do, let me elaborate on my somewhat misleading title and give you some context.
For clarity, I do not own a fig tree. But metaphorically, each of us do. It represents our life’s choices, paths and possibilities (if you prefer to be an apple tree, live your truth). I guess dating way back we can find literature on life presented as trees, but something about this quote by Sylvia Plath captures a feeling I have not quite managed to put into words myself. I cannot recall with full certainty the time and place that I came across this quote, but I wish I did. Not to be dramatic, but it was quite possibly the most relatable piece of writing I have ever read.
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor… and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America… and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
―
Every time I reread this, I sit back and stare into the distance, feeling seen.
“The kindest thing literature does is remind you that your peculiar little feelings have always existed. Someone, in some century, was as equally confused by love, bored by society, tired of performing and hungry for meaning”
―
My recent travels has got me wondering, is my life currently a time of merely tasting figs or actively not picking them. A year, and maybe more like the last couple of years, of moving between places can look like freedom to some or like avoiding a decision to others.
Each place I visited presented me with a possible life, a fig if you may.
The USA
The States is one of those countries in which I feel each State is so unique and I could write a blog on each one. Florida, Utah, Nevada – only a small taste of all 52 but yet such vast differences and experiences. Personally, I am more drawn to regions of nature, outdoorsy living and the more slow life. Utah presented this side to me on a silver platter. One of my highlights was for sure Arches National Park, Eastern Utah. The following photos were taken on my film camera (my top 3):
On top of Arches, I got to experience Zion National Park, Red Canyon (near Bryce Canyon) & the Grand Tetons.
figs ripen in seasons. Picking one now doesn’t mean losing the others forever, because you can come back.
I believe this era of tasting figs will last as long as it takes for me to accept one simple truth:
“My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it—you will regret both.”
— Søren Kierkegaard
