The Strangler Fig.

I’ve always been mesmerized by these twisting giant trees that line the shady Coral Gables streets. Their branches and trunks look like a giant wrapped them up in a rope made out of tree roots, tying them to the ground to keep them from blowing away. As a kid, I loved to climb them and swing on their hanging vines. But now that I know their true nature, I see them as more of an omen then a playground. I know they’re called Strangler Figs, and I know that they’re killers. 

Looking at one of these, you might think it’s all one living organism, but under the Strangler Fig’s entangled vines is another tree entirely. Once full of life and free from chains. At some point, the unsuspecting tree let a flyaway Strangler sapling latch onto an outstretched branch. 

Unalarmed, it allowed the sapling to grow a long, thick root all the way to the ground, solidifying it’s grip. It grew stronger and the Strangler twisted itself around the tree’s other branches and then it’s trunk, sending more and more roots firmly into the ground. 

Unrecognizably covered in vines and depleted, the host tree loses itself completely to the Strangler Fig. No one walking by would think it was a murder scene. Over the many decades it takes to complete this process, the tree stands tall and sturdy yet totally unable to shake its chains. Until finally, the bright tree becomes a hollow ghost and the Strangler takes its place. 

I see Strangler Figs all around the city. Chained by a need for more, by debt and “the grind”. Strangled by their thoughts. So deeply entangled, so completely consumed by their situation that they become it. Forgetting that at their core they are not the vines, but the life at the center. A life who’s only real obligation is to keep breathing. 

It’s easy to let the saplings catch onto your branches. They come packaged so innocently. But stay wary of the Stranglers, and know it’s never too late to shake them off.