learning from the plant kingdom

 

Mutualism

mycorrhizal fungi and tree roots,

chloroplasts and plant cells:

at the heart of these two great collaborations

is cooperation, mutualism,

the simultaneous benefitting of each 

from their work as a team,

for years Western science looked at the plant and animal world

through the lens of how a capitalist would view reality:

everything boiled down to competition,

each species, each individual, out for itself,

the savage reality of "red in tooth and claw,"

to deny that competition exists misses part of the truth,

to believe that competition is the only driver

ignores the truth of what we already know,

the truth of much current plant research,

and the truth of Wikipedia,

the truth of forest life has been reduced by people

to producing the most wood in the shortest time:

take what you can, while you can,

the only consequence to consider 

is the current budget,

success measured by this year's profits,

the value of the stock,

the satisfaction of current desires,

a clear-cut world is more of death than life,

an old growth forest is far more rich and complex

than what is implied in this simplistic value system,

an eco-system's "carrying capacity" is ignored, too,

when competition is our real God,

humans can consider limits 

as imaginary lines to be disregarded,

we only matter if we ourselves are ascendant,

mycorrhizal fungi and tree roots argue differently,

that each life-form can benefit 

from mutually-assured cooperation,

for too long we have worshipped selfishness as the prime directive,

capitalism is efficient as to production,

but it needs help in management,

we need to reorient ourselves so that

mutualism,

symbiosis,

cooperation,

community,

drive our ego to be larger than our individuality,

that we enshrine in ourselves 

both selfishness and selflessness,

we need to be as complex and inter-connected 

as an old growth forest,

we need to follow the lead

of the mutualism at the heart

of the kingdom of plants.

by Henry H. Walker

September 25, ‘26

"I suggest accessing Wikipedia is you want to get further in understanding what I mean by micorrhizal fungi and plant roots,

and chlorplasts and plant cells."

don't just plant the roses

 

being vs doing

I have long been intrigued by two poles:

being and doing,

finding self internally, or

finding self externally,

being in the moment for its own sake,

or being in the moment for the future's sake,

retirement has upped the ante on such self-definition,

for over half a century

I defined much of myself as of value

because of the calling I lived as educator:

student after student coming into my working world

and the guidance, and love, and support, I gave them

made me feel good about myself,

for who I was in the doing

made a difference for the good

in who they were able to be,

the moments of the planting

subordinate to the hope in the future,

at the same time I also found self-worth in other doing,

in the reflecting of thought and feeling

upon the page, such as this,

in the capturing of moments with my camera:

the eyes of student, of teacher, of family,

the glory of place, mountain and sea,

and animal and flower and tree, within their world,

held so that their being fully themselves could on the page,

such words and such photography, 

are of the doing, are of my doing,

but also they are of the subject before me being itself,

looking out the windows

through which the universe can show itself to us,

I work hard these days to both remember the gifts of my doing

and also the gifts I can receive, that every moment still alive,

lets me be ready to open to revelation,

such as this poem of my journey,

and appreciation of this moment,

in many ways my "doing" allows my "being,

I don't just plant the roses,

I smell them, and appreciate all the fleeting moments.

by Henry H. Walker

September 23, ‘26

memory murmurs from the land

 

our touch upon the land

I walk in piedmont woods

that have known people for centuries,

by what people cut down of them,

by what people allowed of them to persist,

I walk in forests that feel old and constant to us now

but are instead of what trees have to make

in between times of axe, clearing machine, logging and farm,

a book I read long ago argued to "read the woods,"

I learned of succession,

of cleared land turning into pine woods,

of hardwoods overshadowing and succeeding the pines,

beech seems to survive the best in the edges left to them,

the long history of people here can express itself

as subtle indentations within the surface of the land,

where people, animal, wagons passed often enough

that a sway by the trail remembers their life and travel,

yesterday I walked over such a memory on the land,

I read the trail sign

that took its reality back hundreds of years

as Indigenous people walked it,

named it "Fish Dam Road,"

our touch now is heavy on the land:

concrete, asphalt, rock foundations, buildings, yards,

our pet trees and bushes and grasses,

I love the soft memory upon the land

of an earlier peoples' living here before us,

who treated the land more 

as if they were just visiting a friend,

rather than sculpting the world as if it is clay 

and they are as God by the riverbank,

imposing his will with his shaping.

by Henry H. Walker

September 13, ‘26

a potential goal of each An Evening With Friends

 Community!

every connection of adult with the student,

with their parents, with each other,

has the potential in a school

to build abstract relationship

into concrete connection,

and to build connection upon connection 

into community:

where individuals unite as if into families,

where families connect and become a village,

where any that can feel lost can feel found,

sharing is at the heart:

shared experience,

shared food,

shared music,

shared love,

shared meaning,

far too much of modern life

drives wedges into our connections

to split us from the wholes that should claim us,

the universe seems to love entropy, 

dissolution, 

the falling apart,

the best in us seeks relationship, 

connection,

the coming together into wholeness,

may we do all we can to be unbroken,

to show the universe 

that we are worth the investment.

by Henry H. Walker

September 24, ‘26

celestial mechanics, and us

 Fall Equinox '26

climate change keeps resetting the odds,

100 year storms every decade rather than every century, 

Fall colors arriving a week or two earlier than before,

droughts increasingly common, not the exception,

devastating fires, devastating floods,

powered by the climate changes 

our ignorance and self-indulgence

wreak upon the Earth,

as summer here in the piedmont slowly slips toward autumn,

excessive heat and humidity still assert themselves,

as much moisture crammed into the air as it can hold,

a watered garden thriving,

because of what previous years stored in the ground,

as I sit outside the last full day of summer,

distant thunder softly announces itself

over the laboring air-conditioner,

our driveway points directly east,

aiming for the next few days 

exactly where the Sun will rise,

hours of light and dark perfectly balanced,

would that that balance outside

could find such a balance inside. . .

while I've been living the moments of my days,

daylight hours have diminished clearly, surely,

nighttime hours have asserted themselves clearly, surely,

I love the empowerment of electricity

to bring us light when the darkness seeks

to make us forget what we want to do this day,

to bring us coolness when the heat pushes us

to forget everything but how hot we are,

celestial mechanics rule the ascendancy and diminishment

of physical light upon the Earth, essential for life as we know it,

the equinox, and the solstice, mark a slight pause,

a transition, in the availability of that light,

there is a grand relationship of Earth to Sun,

yet local realities still rule our moments,

last night near one inch of rain fell,

the sky awakens today within the dominion of grey clouds,

a few minutes ago, the Sun broke through just enough

for one bright beam to pull my eyes down the driveway

and notice the sun rising to the east,

a heavy lid of cloud comes in to block that sharp clarity,

and hangs on, and hangs on,

celestial noon still happens at the Sol Pole at CFS,

students and staff still gather to mark this passing

with chants and symbolic cookies,

though without the Sun to confirm the event,

I made treats,  half of white chocolate,

half of semi-sweet chocolate,

to embody this day in metaphorical truth,

I think of the many ancient peoples

whose day-to-day lives, like ours,

must have swallowed them in the mundane,

but who also remembered to honor the change of seasons

in their architecture, in their holy constructions,

in their remembering of primal truth,

is it not at least prudent

to notice and mark every grand turning of Heaven and Earth,

to open ourselves to the wisdom 

that "day and night, half and half," offers us?

we may not change our behavior, 

but we can open ourselves to learn

what the universe wants to teach us,

how it seeks to elder us,

our bodies in their makeup remember the stars,

should not our souls remember, too?

Sunrise 3 days later, clouds leave

by Henry H. Walker

September 22, ‘26