When I'm in good shape, I live like a drunkard. Invisible to the eye and undetectable by instruments, but I float a little above the ground. I love to exist.
Over time, the root system also splits the rock, drilling its soft threads into the hard stones, but if you rush this slow struggle, nothing will come of it.
Expecting others to make us happy is as foolish as expecting others to grow up, learn, suffer, rejoice, and live instead of us.