“树”是我的记忆中非常重要的一部分。在我的老家，每一户人家门前都会种树。爬树、摘果子、抓蝉、荡秋千，这些与树相关的童年经验，构成了我对世界最初的理解。承载我最多记忆的是童年好友家门前的龙眼树，六年前，那棵树被砍掉了。当我站在那片空地上拍下照片时，才意识到，倒下的不仅仅是那棵树，还有我曾以为稳固存在的、与故乡和过往之间的联系。我开始困惑：当一棵树消失后，那些曾依附于它的记忆和情感，应该去向何处？
后来，我来到黔东南月亮山区的苗寨，在那里看到树以另一种方式贯穿了人们的一生。孩子出生时种下“生命树”；祈福时搭建“消灾树”；成家时以木为屋；逝去时以“生命树”为棺，坟前插上“常青树”。树不仅是自然景观，它可以成为房屋、山林、仪式，也承载着记忆、信仰和归属。它以具体的、仪式化的、也更为复杂的方式，将人与自然、土地和故乡连接在一起。但这里并非停留在过去，劳动力迁移、留守、山被建为牛塘、木屋倒下，都在改变着这些连接。桥梁、摩托车、水泥建筑，以及被改造的山地景观，早已成为当下生活的一部分，与既有的仪式、经验和记忆交织在一起。
对我来说，生命树不仅是被种下的那棵树，也成为一个线索，让我重新去观看人与自然、土地、故乡之间的联系如何被建立，又如何在迁移、建设和现代生活中被重新寻找、理解和安放。如果树的倒下在某种意义上已不可避免，那么当人与土地、与记忆的关系变得脆弱时，我们是否仍能记得那棵属于自己的“生命树”？当最后一棵“生命树”倒下时，我们失去的，会是什么？
My childhood memories are closely tied to the trees of my hometown—climbing branches, picking fruit, catching cicadas. Five years ago, the longan tree I knew best was cut down. In the empty space it left behind, I began to ask: as people become increasingly detached from the land, where do the memories and emotions rooted in it go?
In Miao villages in the Moon Mountain region of Qiandongnan, trees accompany a person throughout life, forming a cultural system grounded in the land. A “Tree of Life” is planted at birth, a “Tree of Disaster Relief” is erected for protection and blessings, and an “Evergreen Tree” marks a grave. Trees are not only part of nature, but also sacred sites and carriers of intergenerational memory.
Through repeated visits to the region over the past two years, I have come to see that contemporary village life cannot be understood through a simple opposition between tradition and modernity. Bridges, motorbikes, concrete buildings, and altered landscapes are not outside interruptions, but part of everyday life as it is lived now. Life here is not frozen in the past; it continues to evolve through labour migration, construction, environmental change, and shifting ways of inhabiting the land. I do not see these transformations as something separate from the community, but as realities already woven into it.
What concerns me is not whether change should happen, but what can still remain meaningful within it. Trees of Life does not seek to tell a simple story of disappearing tradition. Instead, it reflects on a more complex contemporary condition, in which memory, belief, and belonging are continuously being renegotiated. If our connection to the land is becoming increasingly fragile, can we still remember the “Tree of Life” that belongs to us? When the last "Tree of Life" falls, what will we lose?
