is an excellent book by Herman Hesse. As usual I'm going to quote from a few pages.

He learned more from the river than Vasudeva could teach him. He learned from it continually. Above all, he learned from it how to listen, to listen with a still heart, with a waiting, open soul, without passion, without desire, without judgement, without opinions.
It also happened that curious people came along, who had been told that two wise men, magicians or holy men lived at the ferry. The curious ones asked many questions but they received no replies, and they found neither magicians nor wise men. They only found two friendly old men, who appeared to be mute, rather odd and stupid. And the curious ones laughed and said how foolish and credible people were to spread such wild rumours.
Is it not perhaps a mistake on your part not to be strict with him, not to punish him? Do you not chain him with your love? Do you not shame him daily with your goodness and patience and make it still more difficult for him?
Within Siddhartha there slowly grew and ripened the knowledge of what wisdom really was and the goal of his long seeking. It was nothing but a preparation of the soul, a secret art of thinking, feeling and breathing thoughts of unity at every moment of life.
From that hour Siddhartha ceased to fight against his destiny. There shone in his face the serenity of knowledge, of one who is no longer confronted with conflict of desires, who has found salvation, who is in harmony with the streams of events, with the stream of life, full of sympathy and compassion, surrendering himself to the stream, belonging to the unity of all things.
In every truth the opposite is equally true. For example, a truth can only be expressed and enveloped in words if it is one-sided. Everything that is thought and expressed in words is one-sided, only half the truth; it lacks totality, completeness, unity.
The sinner is not on the way to a Buddha-like state; he is not evolving, although our thinking cannot conceive things otherwise. No, the potential Buddha already exists in the sinner; his future is already there. The potential Buddha must be recognized in him, in you, in everybody. The world, Govinda, is not imperfect or slowly evolving along a path to perfection. No, it is perfect at every moment; every sin already carries grace within it, all small children are potential old men, all sucklings have death within them, all dying people - eternal life.
In order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it.
It may be a thought, but I confess, my friend, that I do not differentiate very much between thoughts and words. Quite frankly, I do no attach great importance to thoughts either. I attach more importance to things.
I think it is only important to love the world, not to despise it, not for us to hate others, but to be able to regard the world and ourselves and all beings with love, admiration and respect.
The thing to me is of greater importance than the words; his deeds and life and more important to me than his opinions. Not in speech or thought do I regard him as a great man, but in his deeds and life.
Uncontrollable tears trickled down his old face. He was overwhelmed by a feeling of great love, of the most humble veneration.

The Hidden Life of Trees

is an excellent book by Peter Wohlleben (isbn 1771642483). As usual I'm going to quote from a few pages.

In forked trees, at a certain point, two main shoots form, they continue to grow alongside each other. Each side of the fork creates its own crown, so in a heavy wind, both sides sway back and forth in different directions, putting a great strain on the trunk where the two parted company. ... The fork always breaks at its narrowest point, where the two sides diverge.
The process of learning stability is triggered by painful micro-tears that occur when the trees bend way over in the wind, first in one direction and then in the other. Wherever it hurts, that's where the tree must strengthen its support structure. ... The thickness and stability of the trunk, therefore, builds up as the tree responds to a series of aches and pains.
There is a honey fungus in Switzerland that covers almost 120 acres and is about a thousand years old. Another in Oregon is estimated to be 2,400 years old, extends for 2,000 acres, and weighs 660 tons. That makes fungi the largest known living organism in the world.
You find twice the amount of life-giving nitrogen and phosphorus in plants that cooperate with fungal partners than in plants that tap the soil with the roots alone.
Diversity provides security for ancient forests.
There are more life-forms in a handful of forest soil than there are people on the planet.
As foresters like to say, the forest creates its own ideal habitat.
Commercial forest monocultures also encourage the mass reproduction of butterflies and moths, such as nun moths and pine loopers. What usually happens is that viral illnesses crop up towards the end of the cycle and populations crash.
The storms pummel mature trunks with forces equivalent to a weight of approximately 220 tons. Any tree unprepared for the onslaught can't withstand the pressure and falls over. But deciduous trees are well prepared. To be more aerodynamic they cast off all their solar panels. And so a huge surface area of 1,200 square yards disappears and sinks to the forest floor. This is the equivalent of a sailboat with a 130-foot mast dropping a 100-by-130 foot mainsail.
Why do tree grow into pipes in the first place?... What was attracting them was loose soil that had not been fully compacted after construction. Here the roots found room to breathe and grow. It was only incidentally that they penetrated the seals between individual sections of pipe and eventually ran riot inside them.
Sometimes, especially in cold winters, the old wounds can act up again. Then a crack like a rifle shot echoes through the forest and the trunk splits open along the old injury. This is caused by differences in tension in the frozen wood, because the wood in trees with a history of injury varies greatly in density.