Sprouting Revolution

Revolution: derived from late Latin or Old French to Middle English:  to “roll back”. To roll back – not necessarily surge forward with a sudden radical change and destruction of the status quo.

Interesting…. Who knew…?

During the last couple of weeks, I realized I need to switch gears, thinking-wise and writing-wise.

My miniature orange tree evoked the inspiration.

I forget how long this potted tree has been part of my life – but she (more on my use of this pronoun later) has a history with me measured in decades, not years. She spends each summer outdoors, winter in the relatively cool front room of our house. She has had her ups and down in terms of health over the years, but last summer reached a new low, dropping most of her leaves, displaying a pale semblance of her former self. Following professional advice, I treated her with an organic insecticide (neem oil) and changed the fertilizing routine. She flourished, promising, I hope, to eventually flower once again and to produce the oranges. I accumulate these in the freezer over two or three years to make into small jars of marmalade to give away as Christmas gifts.

But during her resurrection something else on this tree caught my eye: a little shoot, vigorous and unexpected, out of place way down below her leafy canopy, growing from the otherwise bare, smooth trunk.   There is something about the odd placement of this shoot that says to me: Let us not overlook that revolution and restoration can emerge unexpectedly from some part of what went before, some earlier time, maybe something previously forgotten.

Maybe you have noticed that recently there has been renewed interest in, a re-sprouting of, a world view long understood and still held by indigenous peoples: humans are just one part of a community of substrate, systems, and beings with no dependence on hierarchy. Humans: Just. One. Part. One cog, one ingredient, one member. All parts have particular roles intertwined with all others.   

This renewed interest is fostered by our desperation. If the human species has any hope whatsoever to remain a part of this planetary experiment, it will be imperative that we realign our human expectations, relearn this existential understanding of ourselves in the fuller context, and regain our expressions of gratitude.   

I am increasingly convinced this must now “come before all else”. *

Having said that, we cannot afford to stop the myriad political, technological, and social actions currently underway to mitigate the effects of the climate crisis, particularly on the poor and on non-human species. I simply believe this revolution in existential thought will eventually need to be at the root of how and why our species moves forward.

So we might as well get at it. 

The attitude we need to seek goes way beyond liking or loving or enjoying “nature”.  That attitude tends to set us apart, instead of acknowledging our existence within the household of the planet.

What we need to seek is also not about “stewardship” or exploring our role as “caretakers” of something given to us by a divine being. I am a person of faith, and I see sacredness in the world around me. But I think it is a grave mistake to see us as more crucial to the whole than any other part, or as having a hierarchical role that somehow qualifies us to be in control.  

A better attitude is one of intense gratitude toward the other parts. (Note: This does not need to be mutually exclusive from expressing gratitude toward God or some other creating divinity, as some of us may choose to do.)

Radical thinking?  Yes… and no. After all, it is a return to a way of thinking about humans on earth that is a great deal older than civilization.  One could argue effectively that embracing human exceptionalism was a poisonous ingredient from the beginning. Through time, it has become too comfortable, and too reassuring. But our time with this exceptionalism has run out. The “yet to come” arrived while we were busy ignoring the signs of how it fueled our destructive behaviors. The tipping point in the climate crisis (actually reached a while ago) has become more visible to people across the planet, experienced by millions, with storms and fires and migrations and deaths, most every day, in one place or another.  (Covid-19 is just another part.)

Relearning and internalizing the appropriate role of humans on the planet community will prove to be the most challenging part of our future. It will begin with seeing the universe as a “communion of subjects, not a collection of objects,” as theologian Thomas Berry was fond of saying.

So, when I refer to the orange tree as “she”, it is not meant as a personification, but rather as my recognition that the tree is a unique subject rather than an object. More accurately, I suppose, the tree is a “they” as both genders are involved and pollination and production of fruit occur on the same tree. But it is easier for me to see a “she”, especially when she is decked out with incredibly fragrant flowers and then bears fruit, which we, in turn, transform for others in a labor of love. I want to show my respect for the tree as an individual, a member of our household, a being with which I can and do have a relationship. She has her role to play in our home, and so do I.

What does it feel like to have that kind of relationship with every living and non-living thing that surrounds me?

How do I seek relationship with rock, soil, plant, animal, earth system? How do I express thanks to them? And can I understand my part in the community over time, to the seventh generation?

Fred Rogers told us when we are unsure of ourselves, we must look for the helpers. We need to seek help from holders of the wisdom, indigenous friends and acquaintances, being careful not to appropriate their views inappropriately. Ecological science will help. Other writers and artists. But first we must each learn to listen deeply, to feel, to identify with non-human brothers and sisters on our planet and in our local communities. And to acknowledge our debt to them. We need to take that time.

This is not simple. This is revolutionary.

* “Words that come before all else”, is how the Haudenosaunee refer to their Thanksgiving Address. (https://americanindian.si.edu/environment/pdf/01_02_Thanksgiving_Address.pdf)

2 thoughts on “Sprouting Revolution

  1. Katharine, I love the layering of this piece, guiding the reader from the personal and domestic, looping outward toward the wider world of society and biological relationships yet also spiraling inward to touch on love, gratitude, and our capacity for—and the importance of—interconnection.

    But I’m particularly struck by how you’ve framed the idea of revolution as a return rather than explosive change or novelty. The tasks ahead are enormous, but we have tools and we have wisdom. It’s time to gather up our conviction: not simple, as you say, but we know how to do this.

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  2. My favourite piece of your writing so far. Perhaps because I can identify with it the most. It is easy to be part of the fabric when there is such long history around you. This spot where I am sitting now was here in 1370 and perhaps the person sitting here then was thinking the same as me now. Hardly makes me feel singular or powerful. I note that when we arrived at the farm 30 years ago the terrier who lived here then sat in one particular place in the yard in the sun. Every dog we have had since has done the same. It is not only a fabric but a recurring one. X d.

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