The language of plants, and how to listen
The scientific field of plant communication is fairly contentious. The early research, perhaps best known through The Secret Life of Plants, divided the community firmly into two disparate camps. The word communication is at the heart of the issue, antagonized by the human supremacist perspective that seeks to measure all other life through the lens of comparison with human consciousness. But as our capability to measure and “see” beyond the human senses improves, the gap between the “hippie earth lovers” and the “serious scientists” has become smaller. A recent example, Finding the Mother Tree, synthesized some of the research that demonstrates that plants do share information silently over vast distances through the mycelium network underground. Or dare I say, demonstrates relationships between plants. While it stays in the lane of research, it also weaves a subtle thread of longstanding indigenous knowledge being slowly proven as science.
We know that plants respond to stimuli and produce distress signals, and they even make subtle physical sounds. The question of whether that means that plants feel is another one of rigorous debate, again pointing back to a colonialist perspective deeming that all other-than-human life lack the self-awareness necessary to feel or experience emotion.
I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you, dear reader, that I hold an animist perspective that recognizes consciousness as having many forms, and present in all of the natural world and elements. So I hope you’ll understand that I’m using these terms intentionally to create relationship between something familiar to us and something which is beyond our experience, and that these words do not quite capture the idea. There is no currently defined vocabulary for how a wholly different type of lifeform experiences such phenomena, and so we are left with the incomplete language we have created. I digress.
In spite of all its controversy the field of plant science continues to evolve, and maybe even agrees, that the mycelium network bears similarities to a brain, and allows information to be shared almost instantaneously. Not only that, plants can share nutrients through this same network, distinguishing between “competitors” (other species) and plants of the same species. Yet they also collaborate when beneficial to do so, anticipating and responding to possible threats. It resembles the concept of the “hive mind,” a symbiosis of individual and community— overlapping, intersecting, blurring the edges of what it means to be a “unique organism” among your kin.
Our relationship with plants is deep, psychological, and physical. We breathe their air and vice versa. Our DNA is intertwined, especially those that we cohabitate with, and we are caretakers to each other. We literally could not live without plants.
It is common knowledge among self-described “plant people” that it’s important to talk to your plants. Especially houseplants. Plants like to be appreciated just like anyone, and it’s a good idea to let them know in what ways you’re paying attention to them. It’s easy enough to chat idly with your plants and tell them they’re beautiful. The same can be done while walking through nature, silently or aloud.
But how do we listen to plants? How do we expand the appreciation of these beings to truly connect with them? Why would we seek to be intimate with plants in this way, and commune among them?
When I first began studying mediumship, and the practicing of blending was taught, I was immediately resistant. The idea of blending my energy with an unknown-to-me human spirit seemed… creepy. (My feelings on that have evolved, but I think many people can probably relate!)
I was reading Plant Spirit Healing at that time, and had the idea to add this blending technique to some of the practices from the book. Since I had already been using my Reiki practice to exchange with plants, it seemed like a natural extension. Plants felt safe to me.
The first time I practiced mediumship with a plant spirit was incredibly profound. Being a gifted Clairaudient, I had already felt comfortable “conversing” with plants, translating their messages into words, but this wasn’t verbal at all. As I expanded my energy around me and invited a plant being to step closer and perhaps blend with me, I felt a wave of sensation travel across my body. It was cool, like wind, and I felt my blood as sap while my awareness dropped into the ground. The transmission that occurred was not like any other I had experienced before. Time slowed down, or maybe it expanded… my sense of time wrapped around me as I questioned if I really understood the continuity of my own spirit and the nature of reality.
I spend some weeks sorting through what was arising. Strange phrases and observations surfacing at synchronous times. Finding myself attracted to areas of the park I hadn’t sat with before and having unusual animal encounters. Leaves trembled in the wind and seemed to wink at me. Auras emerged around the tops of trees and I wondered, was it possible to have acid flashbacks 10 years later?
Plants know a lot that we don’t. Trees in particular are incredible wise. For one, they can usually live much longer than us. If you’re lucky to live somewhere that has old growth trees, they might be considerably older than any mammal that’s ever lived. It’s a depth of knowledge that’s hard to fathom, elders of our elders. But they also know what their ancestors knew. And what the neighboring communities knew. This idea of knowing is also one that isn’t quite right— it escapes language, but somehow the body is able to understand it.
Plants in general hold unique attributes, special gifts and talents that can teach us about our own ability to cultivate resources within.
Plants often communicate through metaphor. We may pose questions and see scenes from their experience, which demonstrate themes that enhance our learning. They are not separated from their natural cycles. Their resilience in different environments help us understand that we are always in multiple cycles simultaneously: the personal and the collective. Their understanding of death and rebirth is complex, for when you are connected to an unbroken chain of memory the distinction of physical death can be understood differently.
They are compassionate and selfless in ways that most humans could never truly relate to, giving their lives constantly for the nourishment of other beings— they are the only beings who can create their own food from the elements. The individual parts of plants also hold interesting frequencies that unlock spirals of information. Their specialized anatomy hold contradiction and collaboration, much like our psyches do.
Something fascinating about plant spirit mediumship is that there are often dual layers of communication occurring simultaneously, from the species of a plant and from an individual plant. This idea in itself is a bit hard to grasp, but it can be felt— plants are teachers in non-dualism. When we develop a relationship with the plant world, we are offered a window into a completely different perspective. The complicated questions that arise create an opportunity to better understand our place in the vast web of existence.
In my opinion, once this door is unlocked it remains open. We are forever connected and can “plug ourselves back in” when whenever we choose to be present. As in any relationship, and in my approach to Collaborative Mediumship, it is important to engage in reciprocity by asking if there’s anything they wish for us to do. Usually it’s fairly simple stuff, offerings of water or collecting garbage, but I have also received some truly surprising and unusual ritual requests. Each has been instructive and powerful.
My personal practice has come a long way since Meditating with Plants, and as I prepared the mediumship workshop last month I felt called to develop an offering specifically aimed at our relationship with plants. I was delighted that Anima Mundi offered to host me for this workshop on 1/14, where we will be surrounded by beautiful herbal formulations and an environment that oozes with plant medicine.
This is my first in-person offering in quite a while! I will be bringing my beautiful Tibetan bowls I adopted at Menla, along with other therapeutic instruments to provide live sound accompaniment to the mediumship practice.
We will discuss in-depth some concepts and background for Plant Spirit Communication, plant specific “blending” techniques, and the unique attributes of plant communication and language. We will engage in a communal practice to connect with a plant spirit and will have time at the end to journal and share messages.
(Participants will also have 15% off anything purchased in-store following the workshop).
If this interests you, I really hope you’ll join me!