Creating the hardest shell possible and the longest filter imaginable, bending in the wind, on an island far to sea, surrounded by peace apart from man. Soaking up the poison and purifying it into milk and water for only the strong or the wise to drink.
The coconut tree would not want to die, as anything else would not wish to die. But it can feel the poison is getting worse. Its fear is that its milk will no longer save us. Let go of the fear of failing as a filter between truth and lies - let go of the idea of saving yourself - or you could kill the tree that is producing the milk to save the child that will grow to bring the purest wisdom