A Christmas Tree In Flight

Taoist Lessons In Parenting Amid My Daughter’s Protest

It was a crisp December evening, the kind where the air bites your cheeks and you can almost hear Bing Crosby crooning in the background. My daughter, Gwen, and I were on a mission—to find the tallest Christmas tree Home Depot had to offer.

My now ex-wife’s instructions were clear: find one that fills up space with our cathedral ceiling. Living just outside Sacramento at the time, I took this task with the gravity of a general plotting a campaign. Gwen, five years old but already wise beyond her years, was my co-conspirator.

After much deliberation and inspecting trees with the precision of appraisers, we found it: a towering evergreen, practically scraping the rafters of the Home Depot garden center. We flagged down an employee who dutifully tied the tree to the top of my blue Toyota Scion with twine that looked sturdy enough—or so I thought.

My “Murphy’s Law” of Tao Test

As we drove home, traversing the windy bridge that spanned the river, I felt the gentle rustling of destiny—or maybe just twine giving way. Moments later, the tree launched itself into the air like a pine-scented missile, landing smack in the middle of the two-lane bridge. Cars swerved, honking their discontent as my Christmas catastrophe became public theater.

I pulled over, heart pounding, and turned to Gwen in the backseat. Her big brown eyes were already watching me with suspicion.

“Gwen,” I said, attempting calm. “You’re going to have to ride in the front seat for a few minutes while I load the tree into the back.”

Her response was immediate, unflinching. “No, Daddy. That’s illegal.”

Now, let me tell you something about Gwen: she, unlike her dad, was a rule-follower to the core. If there’s a book of California Vehicle Code statutes for five-year-olds, Gwen had memorized it. What followed was an epic debate, as cars continued to swerve around the renegade tree.

“It’s just for a few minutes,” I pleaded.

“It’s against the law,” she countered.

“We’re going to get killed out here!”

“You’re going to get arrested!”

There I was, standing on a bridge, debating vehicular safety regulations with a five-year-old while Christmas Tree itself hung in the balance. The Tao, it seemed, was playing a cruel joke on me.

The Art of Wu Wei (Non-Action)—Except Not

Finally, I put my foot down in what can only be described as a decidedly un-Taoist moment of Yang assertion. “Gwen, you’re getting in the front seat, and that’s final!”

I unbuckled her from her car seat, carried her to the front, and sprinted into oncoming traffic like a crazed lumberjack. Cars honked and brakes screeched as I dragged the rebellious tree back to the car, stuffing it into the hatchback with half of it sticking out, flapping like a festive flag of surrender.

Lessons from the Bridge

As we limped home, Gwen scowling in the passenger seat and the tree precariously dangling from the rear. I later reflected on the Taoist wisdom that could be gleaned from this holiday debacle:

🎄The I Ching and the Hexagram of “Deliverance” (解)

This moment was my encounter with Hexagram 40, which teaches that liberation comes after adversity. The bridge was my crucible, the tree my test. Deliverance came not in avoiding the chaos but in embracing it, dragging the problem (literally) back to the car.

🎄Wu Wei Doesn’t Always Mean Doing Nothing

While the Tao advocates for going with the flow, sometimes the flow includes hauling a 10-foot tree out of traffic. The key is to act without force or ego. Okay, maybe I failed on the ego part when I shouted at Gwen, but let’s call it a holiday exception.

🎄The Wisdom of the Tree

The Christmas tree, much like life, wasn’t interested in staying tied down. It taught me that plans often unravel, but it’s how you adapt that defines the moment. Taoism doesn’t promise smooth roads—it promises clarity when the road gets bumpy (or when your tree takes flight).

🎄Children Can Be Our Greatest Teachers

Gwen’s insistence on following the law reminded me that while the Tao teaches flexibility, it also values principle. Her refusal to budge, even in the face of absurdity, was her own act of alignment with her inner Tao.

PS

The tree made it home, battered but triumphant. We set it up, decorated it, and admired its height and majesty—though every time I looked at it, I couldn’t help but remember its dramatic flight. Gwen eventually forgave me, though she did add one stipulation: next year, we’d use bungee cords instead of twine.

As for me, I learned that Christmas, much like the Tao, is less about perfection and more about presence—whether it’s the presence of a tree, the presence of a lesson, or simply the presence of a five-year-old holding you accountable to a higher standard.

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Diamond Michael Scott — aka The Chocolate Taoist