The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Regenerative Living

The Art of Getting Lost in the Woods, or Cultivating Receptivity December 4, 2016

I think we’ve all had periods of our lives where we feel like we are moving like a stack of dominoes; we have so many things piled on us that we have to keep going, going, and going. In fact, I had a hard conversation this past week with a loved one, someone who is close to me and sees the everyday patterns of my life.  As part of this conversation, I realized that I had been, since moving to a new job a year and a half ago, literally zipping about. Most of my days were just like those dominoes–falling one after another. As soon as I completed a task I would move onto the next one, hardly taking a breath in between. Since moving and taking the new job, I find myself still settling in, still finding my new rhythms, and trying to fit my usual things into less time and space.  He recognized this in me, and asked me to take a few minutes to reflect on it. I’ve written about this before; our culture demands and glorifies the busification of our lives, the constant moving, doing, and pressing ever forward. We see this not only in the workplace, but in our expectations of our daily lives. I think this is especially true as we grow closer to the Western holiday season, where everything seems to be moving much more quickly than usual. It seems that celebrations and time off would be the perfect time to slow down, but instead, it seems that everything speeds up.

 

Time to slow down...

Time to slow down…

 

So today, I’d like to spend time focusing on the opposite of the hustle and bustle: the importance of observation and interaction through meandering, pondering, and wondering and the benefits of doing this work for our own health and nature-based relationships.  This post continues my “Permaculture for Druids” series, and focuses on some additional work with the “observe and interactprinciple.

 

Projective and Receptive States of Being

One useful way of framing today’s topic of being too busy too often is through two common terms used in many western magical systems: projection and reception. We can frame these two principles like taking a hike in the woods.  The first way to hike is with a set goal in mind: a trail we want to walk, a particular landmark we want to see, mushrooms to find, or some other goal to achieve.  This is the projective way of hiking: we are going to take X trail for X hours and see X landmarks.  We are going out to X spots to find X mushrooms.  But remember: that trail has been crafted by someone else, there are lots of people surrounding that popular landmark and our own plans can be disappointing. Or perhaps, the mushrooms are just not in the spot you’d hope they would be!

 

The protective principle is that of the masculine, of the sun, of the elements of air and fire. Projection in the world means that we are out there, doing something, working our wills and using our energy to enact change.  When we are projective, we are often setting ourselves a dedicated path and following that path; it implies that we have an end goal or destination in mind. This is the place we are in often–making plans, enacting them, working to push things forward, engaging in our work in the world.  Projectivity implies a certain kind of control–we are the actors upon our own destiny.  A projective view suggests that we have the power, and we are using that power to achieve our own ends.  Projectivity is both an inner and outer state–focus, determination, drive, and mental stamina are all part of the inner projective place while our specific actions towards a goal help propel us forward.  While projectivity certainly has its place, it can be rather exhausting if that is all we are doing. (And, I’ll just note here, that I wonder how much of these busy schedules really control us?)

 

The alternative way to hike, of course, is to enter natural spaces with a different kind of intent: the intent of wandering with no set goal, no set time frame, and simply seeing what unfolds before us.  This means that we engage in many activities that don’t necessarily have a positive connotation in our culture (but really should): mulling about, being directionless, meandering, and simply taking our time to smell the roses.

 

In western magical systems, the receptive principle is connected to the feminine energy of the moon and the elements of water and earth. And like those principles, receptivity means being open to those things, especially unexpectedly, that come into our lives–allowing things to flow in, allowing us to offer ourselves up to the experience without a set expectation or outcome. Receptivity means taking time to wander and wonder about things we aren’t sure of, to give space and voice to those things before firmly deciding any course or action or solution.  The receptive principle is all about creating space enough, slowing down enough, and turning off our projective natures, long enough to allow nature to have a voice and to take us by the hand and show us some amazing things.

 

Sometimes receptivity also means sitting back and not engaging in the world or putting off driving forward with plans; other times it means doing what we can and having faith in things beyond our control.  Sometimes, it means that the time is not right and the best thing you can do is wait. A lot of us have great difficulty in surrendering our control and simply trusting forces outside of ourselves to bring things in or waiting for a more opportune moment.  Sometimes, the more we try to make something happen, the less likely that thing will be the thing we really want to experience or the less likely it will actually occur. Receptivity applies both in terms of our own minds (cultivating a curiosity, pondering, wondering, and openness) and as well as in our outer experiences.

 

Trail into the woods....

Trails into the woods….

Since most of us have difficulty in particular with the receptive principle, I’m going to spend the remainder of this post talking through some specific activities with regards to interacting in nature that I think can help us cultivate receptivity, to observe, and to simply interact without a specific goal or agenda in mind. Nature is the best teacher with regards to most things, cultivating receptivity being no exception.

 

The Outer Work: The Art of Getting Lost in the Woods

I remember a warm summer day several years ago when three druids went out into the woods for the sole purpose of exploration. We literally picked a “green area” on the map and said “we wonder what’s there?” We had no set goals, no set timeframe, and a few backpacks of supplies–and off we went. It turned out that we had stumbled upon a recreation area/park that was no longer quite maintained by the township, and we had the place to ourselves.  The road we wanted was labeled “closed” but we went down it anyways and parked along the edge. We found a number of paths that were not exactly clear to walk on, as debris and fallen trees had come down in places.  The wildness of the place really added to the adventure. We found morel mushrooms growing up among the paths (which later made a delightful dinner). We found a downed sassafrass tree and used a small hand saw to harvest the roots; we also found a huge patch of stoneroot for medicine.  The further in we went the further in we wanted to go. And, best of all, we druids literally found a small stone circle there, tucked away in the forest along one of the abandoned path. We spent time in the circle, amazed at finding such a treasure.  This day, and the magic of it, remains firmly tucked in my mind as one of the most memorable and pleasurable I had had while living in Michigan for the simple fact that it was an adventure and none of us had any idea what we might find next.

 

When I say the art of getting lost in the woods, I’m not necessarily talking about physically getting lost (although that may also happen) but rather, to allow ourselves to get lost in the wonder and joy that is the natural world.  Getting lost with no set direction and seeing where nature leads.

 

I believe one of the best activities cultivate an open, receptive state is to enter the woods (or other natural area) with no set plans, agenda, or time frame–just like my story above describes. That is, to simply let the paths and forest unfold before you, to lead you deeper in, and to allow you to simply be. To slow yourself down, to make no plans, and to enter with an open mind, heart, and spirit. The key to all of this is to cultivate a gentle openness that is not in a rush to get somewhere, not on a time frame, and certainly not out to find something specific. The more that you try to project, the more that your projection frames your experience rather than nature and her gifts.

 

This is especially a powerful practice if you are able to go somewhere entirely new. When we visit new places, our minds are opened up to new ways of thinking, new experiences, new patterns, and new ways of being.  Find somewhere new, even if its local, and explore that place.  Even better–go to an unfamiliar ecosystem and give yourself a few days to explore it.  For example, if you a mountain-and-forest person (like I am), the rocky shore, lowland swamp, or sandy desert would be wonderful new spaces that could help you cultivate receptivity, observation, and peace.

 

If you are going more local, my favorite thing to do is pick a “green spot” on the map, show up there, find a trail, and begin walking (if its a very secluded area where getting lost might mean I don’t get found for a long time, I might get a park map, but often, I find a map itself is too constraining and instead focus on trail marking).  Sometimes I will go out wandering by myself, and other times, with friends.  A compass or finding your way techniques (like those discussed in Gatty’s Finding Your Way Without a Compass or Map) are necessary.  Just use your intuition and go where you feel led to go.  Bring along a hammock and tree straps if its a warm day–you’ll be glad you did!

 

I have also discovered the usefulness of “river trails” for this kind of activity.  This is where a river will decide where it wants to take you and how fast you will go.  For one, if you are used to being on the land, the river or lake offers a very new and delightful perspective.  For two, the river has a path of its own, and you are simply along for the journey of where it plans to go.  A long weekend with a few nights camping on the shore can be a wonderful way to allow nature to lead you in new directions and to new experiences.  The last river trail I did (which was a half day excursion on the Conemaugh river) allowed me to see three bald eagles–the first I had ever seen!  A gift indeed!

 

Unexpected mushrooms!

Unexpected mushrooms!

I’ll also note that winter is a really lovely time to do some of this work.  Put on your wool socks and warm clothes and just go.  If there is snow, you never have to worry about getting lost anywhere as you can simply follow your own trail home (and see the entire journey from a new perspective).  Winter and snow offers its own unique insights and lessons.

 

Sometimes, perfectly good trips are ruined by my strong desire to find some tasty mushrooms (and I have my mushroom eyes on, rather than just cultivating an openness of spirit and excitement for the journey).  Then, all that I do is look for mushrooms and feel disappointed when I don’t find them, rather than just enjoying my trip into the woods with no set purpose in mind.  The best times are when I go into the woods not to find mushrooms but simply to enjoy the journey (and then really unexpectedly come across a boatload of mushrooms).

 

Nature always has things to teach when we open spaces for her to do so, when we take time to get lost in the woods.  It makes it easier if we cultivate this through relinquishing our own control and simply taking the time to experience and explore new spaces with an open mind.

 

The Inner Work: Cultivating Openness and Curiosity

The inner landscape, too, greatly benefits from this same kind of “open space” that is free of both our own self-directed activities as well as other people’s words and ideas. Obviously, the material above on getting lost in the woods is of deep benefit to our inner landscapes as well.  But also of benefit is the simple act of inner pondering, wondering, and rumination.

 

Cultivating openness

Cultivating openness

I think the key here is cultivating openness. And I stress the word cultivation here, because, culturally and educationally, we are quick to make up our minds and stick to it and be in a perpetual protective state.  There is real value in withholding judgement, staying open, and gathering in more information that we initially think we need.  Continuing to ask “what if?” is a good way to start this process along.

 

There’s a lot of value in rumination, in simply thinking through things, wondering, and not settling on any one thing too quickly. Open and boundless spaces allow for creativity and awen (divine inspiration) to flow. Pondering is useful, in that it allows us to spend time asking “what if” over and over again until we reach an idea that we are satisfied.  One of my best teachers, Deanne Bednar of Strawbale Studio used this technique a lot as she taught natural building–she would take time to simply ask the students questions, come up with possible solutions, and ask for more until the class had exhausted many possibilities–only then would we move forward with a particular design decision or solution to the building problem we were facing.

 

Journaling and free association activities can be a great way to engage in pondering, as can discursive meditation on an open topic or theme.   Even conversations with the right kind of person, an open minded person who asks good questions and questions assumptions, can help you cultivate openness and receptivity. I use all of these often.

 

In permaculture design, this openness and receptivity is a very important part of the process. We are encouraged to spend a full year observing and interacting with our surroundings before completing a design and modifying any space–and it is really good advice.  Making plans to quickly leads to half-thought out designs. It is through the gentle time spent in nature, observing and pondering, and through focused meditation on key topics, that we might have the ability to craft and create designs that help change the course of our own lives, and our communities, for the better while regenerating our ecosystems around us.  While I think we are all pressed to act, acting too quickly can be worse than acting at all.

 

Finally, I want to mention briefly about screens, since they have become so pervasive and all-encompassing. Screens have a way of bringing in everyone else’s projections–and they literally project them into you.  Cultivating openness and curiosity means, for a lot of folks, seriously limiting screen time (try it with an open mind!)

 

Balancing Receptivity and Projectivity

The key to getting lost in the woods and finding your way back again is finding a healthy balance between receptivity and projectivity and understanding when we need to take control and when we need to surrender it.  I think when people think about doing the work of regeneration, of permaculture practice, of sacred gardening and the many other things I discuss here on this blog, they think about their own actions and plans. However, I have found that sacred healing work in the world, through permaculture practice or anything else is about the interplay between projectivity and receptivity, that is, between ourselves and nature. That is, while we are often those who make plans and initiate changes within a system (a garden, an ecosystem, a home, a community, etc) but also that we observe, creatively respond, and reflect upon what happens beyond us. We have to work both with enacting some changes, and also sitting back and simply observing what happens.  We have to be willing to receive nature’s messages and intentions before setting any of our own.

 

On Being Your Authentic Self, Part I: The Path of the Moon November 20, 2016

One of the struggles that has marked my own path of druidry, and the path of many others that I know, is the challenge of being and living our authentic selves. For me, this is the act of somehow balancing a spiritual path that is largely not accepted or outwardly disdained by broader society (including many of my own loved ones) with the need to be true to my own heart and soul and walk my path openly. There is a lot of fear in the druid community, and certainly in the broader earth-based spiritual communities, about being one’s authentic self, or being “out” of the broom closet, as some may frame it. I don’t think this fear has lessened of late, but rather, perhaps increased due to a toxic political climate, where intolerance and bigotry seem to be culturally more acceptable than in the previous decade.  The effects of this are that many of us feel crushed and unable to really be open about who we are. Going to any spiritual gathering, you can see this clearly: many people are just breathing a sigh of relief that they don’t have to hide who they are, what they believe, from a difficult outside world.  So the question I explore today is this: How do we live our authentic selves in a world that largely doesn’t accept our paths?

 

misty_forest

Why does living as our authentic selves matter?

I think that its critical that we find some way of balancing, expressing, and cultivating our inner spiritual paths in our outer realities of life. I’m sure many of my readers have felt the tension that you feel when you are, literally, feeling like two people living two separate lives in a single body. It makes you feel small and, perhaps, inauthentic. For example, some time ago, I briefly dated someone who wasn’t on my spiritual path, but who I otherwise liked a good deal. As I tried to share pieces of my spiritual path, I found him to be a brick wall on the subject, unwilling to engage with me at all, and unwilling to really even hear what I was saying. As our short relationship progressed, the longer I felt unable to share and unable to be supported by this person, I felt myself getting smaller and smaller, shriveling up like a raisin.  You can imagine how this relationship worked out! In a second example, I’ve found this same experience reflected in my relationship with my immediate family at points—how inauthentic I have felt when I’m not living my true self, when I have passively bowed my head at the meal rather than risk a confrontation with my father about my path. I don’t do this any longer, but for many years as a druid I did because I felt it would have been too hard to change the situation without conflict.  In my case, not able to be authentic self in intimate relationships took a serious toll on me.

 

Beyond our immediate relationships, it can be very hard to inhabit and see the world differently on an everyday basis. Core values of my culture (exploitation of earth’s resources) are at direct odds with my own values (nurturing the earth and helping her heal). Further, I have found it challenging to live in a culture that views my spiritual paths and practices as “crazy” or “nonsense” (a topic that I’ll discuss in much greater detail in next week’s post). On my way to work, I might commune with a tree spirit, honor the rising sun, or look for signs in the birds flying overhead. And then walk into my office and start my work—pretending these experiences and things are not part of my life.  Given this, maintaining that balance and feeling authentic is difficult.

 

One source of the difficulty is that this path helps us to shine so well.  When we spend time in nature, she heals us, wipes off the grime from us, and really helps us to feel more whole and complete. The beauty of who we are, the inner gifts that we have (that in other cultures would make us seers, shamans, leaders, healers), need to be expressed in some way that we feel matters. Failure to find ways of channeling those gifts, those passions, and that bright light that our spiritual path does leave us feeling more like the raisin than the lush juicy grape shining there in the sun.

 

Given all of this, I see essentially three paths forward to help cultivate more authentic selves: one of this is a “quiet” path of authentic living or what I’ll call the “Path of the Moon” and the second is a more “loud” path of being fully out about one’s tradition, or what I’ll call the “Path of the Sun.”  And of course, there is the Path of the Dawn, that straddles the two I’ll present.  I’ll explore the Path of the Moon in this post, and next week, I’ll explore the Path of the Sun.  Both deserve treatment on this topic, but both are inherently different work.

 

The Path of the Moon: Cultivating Authentic Living

Justice - balancing Inner and Outer Truths (from the Tarot of Trees, www.tarotoftrees.com)

Justice – balancing Inner and Outer Truths (from the Tarot of Trees, http://www.tarotoftrees.com)

One way to cultivate our authentic selves has to do with cultivating actions in the outer world in a gentle yet powerful way. Those that are familiar with the Druid’s Prayer for Peace (which has a few derivations) might recognize those words in the peace prayer: “Gently and powerfully, within the circle of all life, may I radiate peace.” We can gently, yet powerfully, radiate the expression of our spiritual path without necessarily being uncomfortable with being “loud” about our paths or blazing like the sun.

 

You might think about this work like the quiet light of the moon—the moon reflects the sun (our true selves) but does so in a way that is subtle and intuitive.  This path allows us to be non-confrontational, not to take up the path of the sun because we are either uncomfortable with the role, are private about our paths, or don’t feel that we are in circumstances which allow us to do so.  Whatever the reason, the path of the moon is a quiet path of living authentically in the world yet still allows us to live our true paths.

 

Why the Path of the Moon?

When I think about my own trajectory of being a druid, of living my own path and finding my way deeper and deeper into the forest, a lot of it had to do with my own comfort and growing experience. When I came to Druidry, I was coming out of years of growing up fundamentalist Christian, and then several years of being a secular humanist and agnostic.  I had a long road to walk, within my own heart and mind, to even take on the word “druid” in any public setting. I wasn’t ready; I didn’t really even know what I meant by druidry, so how could I explain it to anyone else? How could I defend it, if I was called to do so? This, then, is obviously one reason that you might take up the path of the moon.

 

A second reason has to do with life circumstances–so many of us are in places where it is detrimental, personally or professionally, to be “out” about our paths.  Maybe your professional life is one that it would be severely detrimental for you to be out and openly a druid; maybe you have a very conservative family and you are worried that they won’t leave you alone if they found out; etc. The point is, at least here in much of the US, we do not live in a world that is kind to those of our path. There is good reason for taking up the quiet path of the moon, as many of us choose to do in our personal, civic, and professional lives. This is not something to be ashamed of, but rather, it is often the work of self-preservation.

 

But it is precisely this tension that can cause us to feel like we are living two lives–the inner life of druidry or our other spiritual practices and the outer life of your “average” person.  And so, we need to find a way to balance those scales, to help us feel more authentic while still hiding away a large part of who we are.  So now, let’s look at some of the work of the Path of the Moon to see how we might live quietly, yet powerfully, and express our path:

 

1: Quiet yet Powerful Actions: Or, Beliefs Manifest as Actions.

One of the ways that I’ve cultivated being my authentic self more quietly yet powerfully is by engaging in external expressions of druidry that are not clearly or inherently “spiritual” to the casual observer.  In other words, while these activities are clearly expressions of my druid path in my mind, they are not immediately linked with such to others, and may be simply seen as “hobbies” or “interests” or “causes.” In this case, the actions are the outer manifestation of my inner beliefs; and people don’t need to now the why of what I am attempting to do, just the what of actually doing it.

 

For example, I can teach wild food foraging and herbalism classes through a lens of reverence and respect for the living earth. This doesn’t scream to people, “look at this druid doing this stuff” but it is fully in line with my druid path and I consider it some of my spiritual work in the world. Teaching people about how to carefully and joyfully interact in the ecosystem and teaching them about nature is a key focus in my own personal druid path.

 

Or for another example, in the last month or so, I have been asked to come and speak on behalf of ordinances for chickens and beekeeping in my small town; I ended up sitting across from a factory farmer who was opposed to both and had to defend small-scale urban beekeeping and chicken keeping. I did so because, for me, chicken and bee ordinances mean that more people can live more sustainably, and intuitively, these kinds of practices can raises awareness and connection with the living earth.

 

awen2_sm

2: Small Signs of Your Path

I remember the time I first came out as a druid in a quiet yet public way. After a powerful ceremony with fellow druids at a gathering,  where I had been led by the spirits to start attending to being less “closed”, I had returned home with a beautiful flat stone. I painted an Awen on the stone, and I decided to put it in my office at work. I didn’t say anything about it to anyone, but placed it there with a simple prayer. There it stood, as a symbol of my faith, in a very public setting. And when I eventually moved universities, the stone came with me, and it sits now in my new office, quietly radiating the light of my path. That was my very first step, that was my first step to being more public and out there about who I was. Every day, I would walk in my office and just say, “wow”, there I am with the symbol of my faith there on my shelf. Of course, most people don’t know what an Awen is, but that didn’t matter, because it mattered to me. Even a small act, like this one, can help us feel like we are bridging the inner spiritual realms with our outer spiritual living.

 

I think there are lots of subtle things you can do that are outer, yet quiet, reflections of your path.  Maybe its the carefully cultivated shrine in your back yard, the symbol you wear around your neck, the quiet prayers you say before each meal in the company of others.  Whatever it is, doing even these small actions can tremendously help you feel like you are living a more authentic life.

 

3: Shifting Daily Living Practices

The third thing that can help us live more quiet and authentic lives has to do with shifting our daily living practices towards honoring the living earth and treading gently. I’ve written a lot on this topic on the blog, from seed saving to recycling and reducing waste, to vermicompost and natural building, to reconsidering gift giving. Each small shift brings our own outer living in line with our inner spiritual practices.  These kinds of shifts can make us feel much more alive and attuned with our own spiritual beliefs.

 

Druid's Peace Prayer

Druid’s Peace Prayer

4: Cultivating Peace and Other Core Values

Even if we don’t feel we can fully be “out” about druidry while walking the Path of the Moon, we can certainly work to cultivate core values of our tradition.

 

For example, in druidry, one of the central values is peace.  We declare peace at the start of our ceremonies and we have prayers, like the druid’s prayer for peace,  that offer us as mantras for living.  I have spent a tremendous amount of time meditating on this particular prayer (along with the druid’s prayer), and thinking about how I can cultivate peace each day in my own dealings with others. As a reminder, I have the painting of the Druid’s Prayer for Peace hanging in my office at work, a quiet reminder to me to always work to cultivate peace even in what can often be some contentious politics in academia.  But I also work to cultivate peace with each of my relationships, and with my relationship with the living world (not killing bugs, for example).

 

5: The Hermitage of the Heart

In the Gnostic Celtic Church, which functions as the arm of the Ancient Order of Druids in America that focuses on clergy preparation and ordination, we have a concept called “the hermitage of the heart.” Its a simple, yet profound, concept that essentially says that we can maintain the inner joy, clarity, and peace our paths provide in a way that offers us some quiet distance from the typical everyday materialist life. In other words, it encourages us to see that distance between our culture and ourselves not as detrimental but as necessary for the preservation of a rich spiritual life. This philosophy can be useful when it seems the chasm is wide indeed, and can help us realize that authenticity comes not always from outer actions, but from deep within and how we frame the interplay between the inner and outer.  I find this principle is useful to use for regular meditation and reflection.

 

Conclusion

I believe there is a lot that we can do in the world that helps us live more authentically even when we don’t feel we can be fully open with who we are and what we believe. It is the quiet path of the moon that gives us some way of balancing our inner beliefs with our outer living in ways that we feel good about ourselves and our paths. I also want to stress that, ultimately, how we navigate this issue of living as our authentic selves is very personal choice–each of us must figure out how to navigate these dark waters and find our own inner peace on the issue. Its not appropriate to judge others for the work they appear to be doing (or not doing) with regards to their own paths. I know that each of us struggle with this in our own way, and each of us are in different circumstances that may or may not allow for certain visible actions. Just because a person is walking quietly by moonlight on the path of the forest doesn’t mean he or she is not walking there–so be kind to your fellow forest path walkers. Next week, I’ll look at the Path of the Sun, or being much more open as a way of cultivating an authentic self.  Blessings!

 

Embracing “First Aid Responder” Plants July 17, 2016

As I grow ever more in tune and aware of nature’s gifts, I keep coming back to one of the tragedies of our age–our incredible misunderstanding of the natural world, the sacred living earth from which all things flow. One of the things I’ve been working hard to do in this blog, and in my own community here in PA, is to restore and reconnect humans and nature. My particular way of doing it has lately been through the teaching of healing plant medicine, edible wild foods, and the like.  This means breaking down some assumptions, but really, building new knowledge and empowerment for many people in the community.  Since moving to my small town I’ve been really busy as an ambassador offering presentations on permaculture and vermicomposting, summer plant walks (wild food/medicine), herbalism classes, and most recently I am teaching children at the local UU church how to make medicine from plantain! I am finding that here, there is a great need for this kind of plant education in the community, certainly, and great interest.

 

What I am learning is that people have very limited vocabularies, frameworks, and understandings when it comes to plants. One of the things that often comes up from people, and that they latch onto, is the idea of the “invasive” vs. “native” plant. When I share a plant, they want to know if its invasive or native, and I rarely want to use those terms. As I mentioned in my last post on this subject (which was rather controversial), the concept of invasiveness is, in itself, a real problem. And I think, more than anything, it is because all invasive plants are put into a little box. If these plants were human, attaching such a label would be considered racist, sexist, classist, homophobic, etc.  But apparently, we can do it as much as we like to plants–and when we pigeonhole plants into an “invasive” or “native” category, we make assumptions about them without knowing their true nature, understanding their spirits, or their medicine and magic.

 

Poison Ivy, guardian plant

Poison Ivy, guardian plant

I think this is a problem for a number of reasons.  For one, the term is derogatory, and makes a set of assumptions that simply don’t fit for all plants with the “invasive” category.  Second, a lot of plants don’t fit in the whole binary very well. Poison ivy, which is one of my very favorite plants (I will have to write on it one of these days) is a native plant, yet, it doesn’t get privileged status because humans don’t like what happens when they rub up against it. Water hemlock is another native plant which which you do not want to tango. Nearly all lawn grass isn’t native, but humans like it because it mows well and mats well and creates lawn. We have all kinds of stuff we’ve planted (hello wheat, oats, barley, lettuce, onion, radish, leek….the list goes on and on).  How do any of these fit within the categories?  They really don’t.

 

So if the categories don’t fit, why do we still use them?  Probably because they are simple, and they allow people to know something (e.g. plant = good or plant = bad) about the plants.  Part of what I believe we need to do, in order to build more fruitful relationships with nature, is to rethink these terms.  So today, I’d like to present one new category that we can consider as a thinking, teaching, and relationship-building tool: the first aid responder plant.

 

Introducing: The First Aid Responder Plants

Imagine that a person who is in a really bad accident, that the person was unable to move, damaged and broken.  Who would that person want to come to their aid?  A first responder, that’s who! An ambulance and medic, someone who could help stabilize the person, get them to the hospital, and set them on the path for long-term healing and recovery.

 

If we use this same analogy with plants, we can see that this is what happens to our lands every day. I wrote about different kinds of damage extensively in my recent land healing series. Our lands are harmed with our various activities: oil extraction, logging, new construction, conventional agriculture, and so on. These activities really harm certain kinds of plant species that are slow to propagate and slow to take hold. But other plant species, those that have evolved to adapt to these kinds of conditions, can take hold and help regenerate the land. They are plants that are adapted to particular circumstances: disturbance, and the nature of that disturbance is almost always human caused, directly or indirectly. And these are our first responder plants.

 

Unfortunately, a lot of our first aid responders end up on noxious weed lists for a simple reason–they are abundant, as disturbance is abundant. This has people assume immediately that these plants are somehow “out of control” but, given the nature of where these plants grow, they are only responding to human-caused disturbance. As I’ll show here, the situation is far less clear.  For one, people only pay attention to what is happening at this moment, not what has happened or what will happen in the future.  This short-term view means that we cannot account for most of the variables in why the responder plants are here–and that’s a problem for a few reasons.

 

Ox-Eye daisy is a very good example of a first-aid responder plant (and delicous edible and medicinal plant). This plant often shows up in disturbed soil: over-grazed pastures, old potato fields, edges of parking lots, and so on. People see these dense patches of daisy and think, “oh noes! There’s the invader!” without paying attention to why it is growing there or the history of the land.  I observed a very interesting pattern with regards to daisies in my own acre-sized field on my homestead: the first year, the field was all daisy, as the previous owners mowed the field all the time.  I chose not to mow the field but instead only mow walking paths; the second year, the daisy only grew on the paths where I had mowed.  By the fourth year, there were very few ox-eye daisies other than growing out of the paths–the rest of the field had gone to milkweed, st. john’s wort, wild strawberry, and other such plants.  The truth is, you aren’t going to get rid of Ox-Eye daisy in a field–but you don’t need to if you let it do its sacred work of healing.

Ox-eye daisy my first year - this field has practically nothing after six years!

Ox-eye daisy my first year – this field has practically nothing after six years!

 

Sweet clover is another one where I’ve seen a similar pattern–areas of disturbance, especially areas that have been recently dug and mowed. I noticed this a lot in parks–fields of plants with sweet clover only on the disturbed edges.  If there is no longer disruption, it disappears after about five years (fitting my first responder category). Bees make incredible honey from sweet clover, and it is also a fantastic medicinal plant, particularly indicated for nerve damage.

 

Dandelion is yet a third fantastic first responder plant; and I’ve written on the dandelion’s magic and purpose extensively a few years ago on this blog (along with wine recipes, lol). Dandelion breaks up compacted soil and brings nutrients from deep.  It is particularly effective in regenerating lawns.  Dandelions won’t grow once ecological succession happens and the lawn is no longer a lawn–again, they are a first responder plant. And, of course, dandelion is medicinal and edible.

 

Spotted Knapweed is yet another first responder, and one my herbal mentor Jim McDonald taught me extensively about.  Jim showed us his field that used to be full of it.  The more he pulled, the more it came (of course it did, it thrives in disturbance).  He gave up pulling it out and over time, it did its work and now there isn’t hardly any of it left after about 10 years! And, if you are noticing the pattern here, spotted knapweed is also medicinal.

 

Curly Dock/Yellow Dock and Burdock, which are both fantastic medicinal and edible plants, also work with compacted soil well, and will grow to heal disturbance and break up compacted soil if given a chance to do so. Once ecological succession takes place, curly dock and burdock are nowhere to be found.

 

Burdock as a land regenerating plant and medicinal

Burdock as a land regenerating plant and medicinal

What you have hopefully noticed form this list is not only is this plant a first aid responder for the land, these plants are also healing and medicinal for humans!  We should be thanking them for the services we provide for our lands: healing the soil quickly and effectively, breaking up compacted soil, reducing erosion, offering us medicine and food so freely.  These plants deserve our respect and to be honored. Where would the land be without these first aid responders?  Where would we be without them?

 

I hope this framework is helpful to you as a way to expand beyond the invasive/native binary.  Now, I am full to admit that this is one taxonomy of plants, and there is another group (kudzu, buckthorn) that may rightfully deserve some of the ire that people throw at them (as these vines literally tear down forests; the long-term ecological impacts still yet to be known). I cut buckthorn down by hand when I see it, for sure.  But I don’t think by any means that the first responder plants deserve to be in the same category, not from all of my observations and research. And maybe, next time you see one, thank a first responder plant for the good work that plant is doing on behalf of all.

PS: This link tells you a bit more about how some first responder plants indicate certain soil conditions.

 

A Druid’s Primer on Land Healing, Part IX: Healing Our Lands Physically, Energetically, and Spiritually May 29, 2016

Alternative Front Yard full of healing and habitat

Alternative Front Yard full of healing and habitat!

As I walk through my neighborhood in this quiet Pennsylvania town, I am struck by the contrast. On one hand, many of my neighbor’s lawns are monocropped with grass–one after another, green expanses stretch on and on. Dandelions are quickly sprayed, and uniformity reigns supreme. This is the language of “progress,” the look of industrialization, and the announcement of humanity’s dominance over nature. But yet, on many blocks, one or two households have embraced a different paradigm: kale and strawberries along the front green area between the street and the sidewalk growing for any who want to harvest, pumpkins climbing through hedges, a completely alternative lawn full of herbs that requires loving care, but certainly not mowing. A fully abundant 1/10th of an acre with fruit trees, raised beds, grape arbors, and beautiful carved wooden sculptures. This is a sign, to me, that change and hope are possible and that the language of healing, the language of regeneration, touches the hearts and souls of so many here.  Part of this is facilitated by community groups: this town has held an Herb Study Group for over 30 years as well as an avid group of gardeners, and alternative lawns and growing spaces are accepted here (although still not the norm by any means). The contrast between these two spaces, both energetically and physically, is quite impressive. And this isn’t the only kind of regenerated space you can find nearby: after the strip mines complete their work, they are now required by law to return the landscape. Usually, this means planting scrub pines and watching the goldenrod come back in with very limited biodiversity, but occasionally, you find a druid wandering among those places, spreading magic seed balls infused with the energy and light of healing or planting nuts in the bare soils–and the seeds of biodiversity that can help this land transform and regrow the many things that were lost.  Now, new ecosystems are being reborn in those places that were once stripped bear.

 

And, a place I’ll be visiting this summer to do some backpacking is the PA Wilds region, an area with almost 1.5 million acres of forests. These forests were once desolate, logged areas, with almost 100% of the forests being clear cut about a century ago, much of the logging to fuel industrialization and expansion. While these forests are still under threat from fracking and oil exploration (especially in the Allegheny National Forest), many of these lands are regenerated with abundance and life. Even wild elk roam once more!

 

Truly, as a land healer, being part of spaces that can be, or are being, actively regenerated–and healed– is my favorite kind of work. I say it’s my favorite work because the other work I’ve talked about, in the last four or so posts in this series, where you are witnessing, holding space, sending energy deep into the heart of the earth is all really hard–energetically hard, emotionally hard, and can be physically draining.  Its even hard to write about it, which is part of why this has taken me so long to finish what I thought was going to be a short series on the subject!  But the work of regeneration, of taking damaged lands and helping them heal–the work of this post: it is work that regenerates the spirit. It grows as you grow, it unfolds and you unfold with it is perfect harmony.  This work allows us to share our gifts of creativity, nurturing, healing, and joy and reconnect with the living earth around us.

 

Layers of regenerating forest!

Layers of regenerating forest!

I’ve really been talking about this subject of land healing seriously for over a year now from different angles, especially focused on the physical regeneration of the land through my posts on healing hands, on refugia gardens, on seed saving and spreading seed balls, on alternative front and back lawns, and even further back on homesteading and my own regeneration work in Michigan. As you can see, I’ve written a lot on this blog about physical work of land healing as spiritual work, and I want to talk today about the linkages between the physical and spiritual dimensions and the more energetic aspects of this work.  Because while the land always has the power to heal–energetic work on our lands can help it heal much, much, faster.  Consider this like a burst of healing energy to get the land abundantly growing again!  This is, for now at leats, the final post in my Druid’s Primer for Land Healing series, although I do have some more specialized topics planned in the future. You can read the full series of posts here: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, and Part VIII.  And once you’ve done that, come back, and we will talk about how to heal our lands!

 

Where Healing Can Happen

I want to return to my very first post in this series briefly, and remind you about the places and spaces that land healing–land regeneration–can happen. This direct healing work should be done not on sites that are actively being damaged outside of your control (repeated logging, strip mines, etc)–this is the work of palliative care, and I refer you to earlier posts in this series. Nor is it the work of a site that is going to be destroyed–this is yet another kind of spiritual and energetic work. Today’s work is for sites that have had damage (whether it is that the ecosystem has been removed because of construction, mining, or even replaced with a lawn) and is in a place that it can now heal again and is free from possible damage in the immediate future. This is really an important distinction to understand, because the wrong kind of energetic work can be damaging. Here’s what I mean: a lot of the techniques I will describe in this post are techniques of the energy of spring and that of fire–its about waking up, getting things flowing again, coaxing the spirits of the land out of deep slumber and hiding.  The last thing you want to do is do this work if the land will end up being destroyed so soon again. That’s like rousing a sick person out of bed, and moving, when all they really need to do is sleep through the worst of it.

 

Preparing for Healing Work and Building Relationships: Feeling Your Way Into the Work

If the land has been damaged for some time, the spirits of that land may have fled, gone deeply underground, or are otherwise closed off. I experienced this on my land in Michigan when I first arrived. I remember standing beneath the giant white pine tree, next to the second white pine stump that was it’s partner and had been cut off haphazardly by the previous owners. I sensed the spirits were there, but there was tremendous sorrow, anger, and resentment of all that had been done to the land. I began, before doing any healing work, with the work of apology and witnessing, acknowledging what had been done and showing that I was a different kind of person and was here to help. I don’t think, at first, I was accepted as someone who would heal. And so, I  my waited, knowing that things would unfold in their own time and in their own way.  The only thing I did during this time was clean up active piles of garbage (like a burn pile) and scattered debris, and then I enacted the first design principle of permaculture: observe and interact.

 

Time for some regeneration!

Time for some regeneration!  This is one site I’m working with at present.

Shortly after I moved in, a racoon that had distemper showed up in my yard in the early morning hours. The racoon was out in the day, and after I determined that he didn’t have rabies based on his symptoms, I sat at a distance, holding space with him, knowing that his time was near.  He passed a few hours later. I dug a deep hole, blessed it with flowers and sacred water, and had a small ceremony for him.  I covered him up and piled a cairn of rocks quite high, knowing that if his body was left out, the disease would spread.  Sure enough, over the next few days, a number of critters tried to get into that hole, but were unable to do so due to my careful burial. The distemper was stopped from infecting any other animals.  After the raccoon incident, the land opened up, and the actual healing work could begin.  I realized that the raccoon was a test, and apparently, I had passed.  It was at this point that the spirits of the land spoke to me, shared with me the healing work that was to be done, and I began in earnest.  I will also say that that wasn’t the only test, and they come at unexpected times!

 

A Patchwork of Approaches

No single person’s approach is the “right” approach to land healing work.  You may have a very different skillset or background than I do, so I would suggest that you take the approaches here and use the ones that work for you (and I am very interested in hearing approaches you have used–please share!)  I would also really strongly encourage you to bring others in for the healing work.  For example, my sister is a Reiki Master Teacher, and the way she moves energy is very different than the ways that I do as a Druid.  It was a welcome thing for her to come, after I purchased my land for example, and do her own kind of energetic healing.  Another friend was an incredible musician, and radiated his healing energy out to the land with a series of wonderful folk songs.  And so, you might think about the land healing work you do like a colorful patchwork quilt with different designs: many approaches can work, and the more, the merrier!  So with that, here are some that I have found particularly effective.

 

Physical-Energetic-Spirit Connections

The most important aspect of all of this work, whether you are doing music, reiki, ritual, or other sacred work that I describe below is that you understand the relationship between physical healing and energetic healing.  You might think about this in an analogy with human beings: we have a physical body, we have emotions/heart, and we have a soul. These are all interlinked, and yet, each needs a different kind of healing energy.

  • Our physical regeneration of the land, through tending the wild, scattering seeds, replanting and regrowing, is like the physical regeneration of our bodies.  This is building habitat, reintroducing species, creating spaces for life.
  • The energetic regeneration is a lot like helping heal a person’s emotional scars: this is a completely different kind of healing, done by different strategies or even a different kind of healer. This is rebuilding the human-nature connections that have been severed, reconneciton, rebuilding trust.
  • The healing of the soul–is like the deep spiritual work we do as humans. I tie this analogy to that of the spirits of the land, those non-corporeal beings that reside in our lands and make magic there. River spirits, tree spirits, larger guardian spirits, animal spirits, plant spirits–so many live in our lands.

It is on all three levels that we can work to provide the most benefit; but work on even one of these levels also benefits the other two in the long run.  And, so, today, we explore the healing work we can do on the energetic and spirit levels: that of ritual, sacred spaces, gaurdianship, and more.

 

A Full Season of Rituals: Infusing with the Blessing of the Sun

I’ve mentioned before the method of drawing energy down from the sun and infusing the land with light as a way to clear energetically bad places, and we are going to build upon that method (which I shared in my last post in this series, including a barebones structure of a ritual that you can use).  In the case of land healing when the land is ready for regeneration, I would suggest more than just a single ritual for this work; where in the case of palliative care, one ritual is all you need or want to do. In the case of land healing,  I would suggest either a full year of rituals (four, minimum, at the solstices and equinoxes) and, if possible, the setting of a standing stone to permanently channel that light down and within (I explained the standing stone technique more fully in my earlier post I linked above).

 

In the case of energetic land healing, I find that most of the work I do in this area is drawing energy towards the site and infusing it with healing light.  The ritual that I most often use for this is one from the AODA, our seasonal celebrations, which works directly with the three currents and which serves as a land healing and blessing, drawing down the light of the celestial heavens and the sun.  I’ve shared a barebones structure of it in my last post.  You can purchase the AODA Grove Handbook for a complete version of this ritual for a group (or if you are a member of the AODA, we will be releasing a New Member Guide soon that will include solo versions of the ritual).

 

The power of the sun!

The power of the sun!

You can use the structure I provided in my last post, with one major exception: you are doing a series of rituals instead of just one.  The first ritual you do should be the one I outlined in the last post–clearing away the energetic darkness. Think of this like the pain and suffering that need to be healed, and only once they are healed, then the light can come within the land. I kind of see this akin to a clay pot–when you start land healing work, the pot is often filled with negative energy, with darkness, and the first thing you have to do is clear out the stuff that’s already in the pot before you can fill it with something better.  So the first ritual does that.  You can use any other structure as well, with the intention of clearing the space first.

 

So a yearly ritual structure for intensively providing energetic healing support to the land might look like this (using the energies of the season for a guide).  I’d personally start this work if possible in the Winter Solstice, but starting the work anytime is also appropriate.

  1.  Winter Solstice and/or Spring Equinox: Clearing out the darkness and bringing in some light.
  2. Spring equinox and/or Summer Solstice: Infusing the land with light for a blessing.
  3. Summer Solstice and/or Fall Equinox: A second infusing of the land with light for a blessing; establishing guardianship (see below)
  4. Fall equinox and/or Winter Solstice: A third infusion of the land with light for a blessing; deep listening on the next steps to take.

If you are also setting a standing stone (or even building a stone carin), you can focus your ritual on the stone itself.

 

For the differences in these four kinds of rituals, visualization is effective: imagine the energy coming down from the star, through the sun, and down into the earth, filling the land with light.  Purging of darkness, and then, seeing the light infuse into the land, up into the roots, and so on.

 

Creating a Sacred Space

I have found that establishing a permanent sacred space on the land (even around the entire land that is undergoing healing, if appropriate) is very effective. I have written on this particular thing in a number of posts, so I refer you to my sacred space series of posts for more information on how to do this.  One key here is to listen carefully, and to build a sacred space that you can tend and visit often.  This might just be leaving a small offering, sitting quietly, observing, meditating–the important thing here is that a sacred space is created by the union of yourself and the land, and your presence is needed for it to continue to function.  In the case of my homestead in Michigan, I established the whole property as a sacred space, and worked it diligently in a number of ways.  And you should have seen how it grew!

 

Communing with Spirits

On the matter of healing the soul of the land, we must reach out to the spirits of the land if we are able. Some people have particular gifts in this area in terms of direct communication, while others’ gifts lead them in a different direction.  Divination tools can be useful here. I would say, if nothing else, leaving an offering for the spirits (possibly at a shrine you construct as part of the larger sacred space, above), acknowledge the spirits, and most importantly–welcome them back. Let them know that you are doing work here, that the land is no longer in danger, and that it is safe to return.  They will take their time, perhaps, in manifesting, but be patient. And look for signs of any kinds (see my Druid’s Tree Working posts for how to commune with them, the strategies are very much the same).

 

Re-establishing Eldership

The Ancient Maple - An Elder of the Land

The Ancient Maple – An Elder of the Land

One of the problems that happen, especially with forests and logging, but really with any site that has been destroyed, is that the land loses its elders.  You’ve probably met those elders areas in lands that are whole–the ancient wizened oak, the tall white pines, the ancient elk with a massive rack of horns.  These elders are those who have inhabited the land for many cycles of the sun and moon, and who hold presence and history in those spaces.  They are like a nexus of energy, with many linkages throughout the forest. They have tremendous energy surrounding them, a strong spirit, wisdom.  The English language fails me here, but I hope you understand. The problem that new lands face is that they have no elders, that presence may have been lost.  I have found that part of healing is helping to establish the patterns of eldership. You want to do this carefully and in full support of the land and her spirits, but here are some suggestions.  These suggestions really apply to the plant kingdom; I have less experience with animal eldership (but perhaps one of my readers does):

  • Stones, rivers, and other inorganic features have been around a very long time.  Some stones even hold the patterns of fossils of ancient trees.  They can temporarily hold this kind of energy until a living elder grows and is established over time. Living elders are important, however.
  • Bringing a piece of an elder from another place can sometimes work.  For example, First, find an elder in another place, and see if that elder will let you move a small piece of themselves (like a branch) and place it somewhere you are led to place it.
  • Finding the offspring of an elder who was cut (in the case of a tree, as these elders are often trees) and nurturing that new offspring can also be done.

 

Re-establishing Guardianship

The sacred compact between humans and the land, and the symbiotic relationship between them, is destroyed when the land is stripped bare or otherwise damaged. Re-establishing the human’s role as a guardian and tender of that land is important–and that is something that you can do if you feel led–but only if you feel led.  This involves a few steps.

  • First, feel this out out very carefully, making sure that this is something that the land wants and that you can do.  The land may want to be left alone to heal on its own for a time, and you don’t want to be there if you are unwelcome. It also needs to be something that you are making a long-term commitment to, so make sure you are stable enough, and rooted enough, for that kind of commitment.
  • Two, if it appears appropriate, making an oath to the land establishing guardianship (I will usually do this as part of a regular ritual at an appropriate day, such as at one of the solstices or equinoxes).  Make it clear what you are swearing to, and make sure whatever you swear to, you intend to uphold.
  • Three, regular visitation, vigilance, tending, and time spent–the work of the guardian.  This can be anything: from going to the land and visiting, being open and listening, to picking up trash, paying attention to the needs of the land, to protecting it from those who would seek to harm.
  • Regular work on the land should include gaining knowledge about the land: learning it’s history, learning the dominant species and how they interact, studying botany, learning the names and uses of the trees–enough to know if something is amiss.  Spend time on the land–overnight, in quietude, moving around–in all those ways.  Build sacred spaces.  Bring people there to help heal and grow. Think of this land like your focal point for much of what you do!

The role of guardian of the land is not one to take on lightly, but if you feel compelled to do so, it is a wonderful way of reestablishing those connections and helping the land heal.  It is really a lifetime commitment, and I only mention it here because it is so effective for land healing.

 

The Magic of Seeds

I’ll end my discussion today with two physical healing techniques that I’ve mentioned before: as I discussed in my series of posts on refugia and seed arc gardens over the winter months, land that is physically healing. When the land has been stripped bare, it needs the genetic material to regenerate.  This requires a knowledge of botany and ecology, but you can easily find lists of plants common to your bioregion, including those endangered. The same is true of endangered mammals, birds, amphibians, and bugs–and the kinds of ecosystems they need to be safe.  I very much believe in the work of scattering seeds, of tending the wild, and doing this intentionally as a land healer.

 

These days, I take my magic seed balls–of several varieties–with me everywhere.  The wet woodland blend includes seeds of ramps, stoneroot, blue cohosh, and mayflower.  The fields blend includes New England aster, milkweed, pluresy root, echinacea, and stinging nettle (all of these plants are on the United Plant Saver’s list, save stinging nettle and NE Aster; these two I added because we just need more of them around!)

 

A Permablitz

Finally, there is a tremendous amount of power in a group of people, a community, coming together to enact healing work. While this can be done doing ritual, like I described above, it can also be done through the physical work of healing the land.  In permaculture terms, we call this a permablitz, and it’s a way for people to come together and quickly replant, regrow, and tend the land.  I held a number of permablitzes at my own property and also helped many others in blitzes of their own.  The land appreciates this so much, as it provides a counter narrative to the many hands who had worked to destroy a place for their own gains.  These blitzes are generally focused on a restorative approach–perhaps earthworking (like swales) to hold water, almost always some planting or scattering seeds, and other kinds of work.  People want to feel like they are doing something, and blitzes are not only a great way to heal the land but also to help reconnect many with the living earth.

 

Tree in the fall months!

Tree in the fall months!

Concluding Thoughts (for now)!

This series has been going on for quite some months now–I must say, I was surprised by how much I had to say once I started writing.  It took a while to come forth, as some of the subjects were quite difficult to talk about, but I hope this material was useful.  I hope it is useful as you engage in your own land healing work, whether you’ve been doing land healing for a long time, or whether you are new to this process.  I think this the last post, for now, but I expect that this will be a topic I’ll continue to return to from time to time, as I learn new things and grow in new ways.  Thank you for staying with me throughout this journey, and I wish you the best in your own land healing endeavors!  I’d love to hear from you more about your own land healing work, and also, as you use these techniques covered in the nine posts, I would love to hear your thoughts, feedback, and experiences.  Blessings!

 

A Druid’s Primer on Land Healing, Part VII: Self Care and Land Healing April 10, 2016

Today’s post continues my long series in land healing (see earlier posts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6), and given the heaviness of the last few weeks of posts, today, I wanted to delve into how to do this healing work and to stay happy, healthy, and sane. Today, I want to explore and voice some of these mental health concerns and share strategies for coping, addressing, and action.  And so, in this post, we’ll look first at some challenges to help us frame these overall issues, including the concept of solstalgia, and then we’ll explore a wide range of ways that we can engage in self-care on these issues: Having the tools and cultivating hope, supporting our adrenals and physical bodies with plants, supporting our souls with healing retreats and escapes, daily protective workings, working with the energies of light and life, bardic acts of expression, visiting well-tended places, and talking with it and more. And so, off we go!

 

One of my favorites sycamores to sit under and heal

One of my favorites sycamores to sit under and heal

Solstalgia

There is good cause to talk about the subject of mental health and self care in regards to the work of land healing–as I shared a bit last week, research is emerging on the mental health implications of  living in a rapidly depleting and crumbling world. And that research is only scratching the surface, really, of what people who are spiritually aware of these things and deeply connected with the land really experience!

 

I recently came across a psychological theory–solstalgia–that sheds great light onto today’s subject, so I’ll share it here. Nostalgia is, in the psychological sense, what happens to people who are distant from home and long to return–this often occurs with people who were refugees or other people forced to leave their homes for various reasons (no work, etc).  Solstalgia, which was proposed by Albrecht and colleagues in 2007, is a similar phenomenon, and describes the stress and mental health issues that people face when experiencing first-hand devastation of their home lands. Through a series of focus groups, interviews, and surveys, they explored how a rural population experienced massive surface mining operations and extreme drought; people who live among and experience large-scale environmental destruction had a range of negative emotions, a disconnection to their sense of place and belonging, descriptions of extreme duress, and a strong sense of powerlessness. This “environmentally induced stress” was particularly difficult to manage because it happened in one’s home environment, every day, and escaping it meant leaving home. They described these chronic stressors as “generally not seen” by mental health professionals or researchers.  Although this term was proposed in 2007, it hasn’t gained much traction in the time since: and I think that’s a problem.  The longer that we pretend this stuff doesn’t affect us, the more problematic it becomes.

 

I find this concept really useful to explain some of what I’ve been personally experiencing since returning to PA, and I wonder how it plays out not just in the short term, but over time.  As an herbalist, I know that short-term stressors can give way to long-term adrenal fatigue, and eventually, adrenal burnout, where a person is in a chronic state of prolonged stress that causes depression, apathy, lack of energy, and general ill health.  I sometimes wonder if that’s what is going on here, when people have been living for so long in this chronically stressed state.  And I think its important to realize that even if people aren’t as aware of the specific ecological consequences, this stuff is hard to avoid seeing. These implications are there, I have found, whether or not you are awake and paying attention to what is happening.  All of us, on some level, know things are changing and each of us have to find our own way through it.  For many, its, as I wrote about two weeks ago, ignoring it and choosing not to see.  Its a self-preservation response to avoid even more stress.I think when you begin to open your eyes, however, and really confront this stuff through land healing, there’s a different kind of level of awareness that takes place.  In choosing to see, you also choose to experience.  Some of that pain and suffering, invariably, goes within is, and if we aren’t careful, gets lodged there.  And so, for the remainder of the post, let’s explore some of those self-care strategies that can really help land healers along!

 

Supporting our Adrenals and Physical Bodies

Some nice nettles!

Some nice nettles!

On the practical level much of our stress is handled through the body’s automatic nervous system; chronic stress often puts us into a long-term sympathetic nervous system state. (Really, daily life in industrialized cultures in the 21st century does that already, and adding on some of these environmental stressors just pushes it over the edge). Our adrenal glands produce hormones that help our bodies deal with stress, but over time, they weaken and are taxed. Chronic fatigue syndrome can set in if we are not careful; and so, finding ways of reducing the stress and replenishing our adrenals are of critical concern.  Reducing the stress and supporting our adrenals has a number of different aspects: we need physical rest and rejuvenation (see below); we need a healthy diet (no caffeine, lots of nutrients and leafy greens); we need to work to reduce stress when possible; and we need plant allies that can help physically and mentally help reduce stress and rejuvenate.  I have had a tremendous amount of success with these plant allies in coping with my own stress (from work, from all this stuff) and wanted to share. Here are a few of my favorite plant allies that are easy to grow, local, and abundant for adrenal support and rebuilding:

 

  • Oats / Milky Oats (Avena Sativa): Oats are a gentle, powerful herb and a fantastic restorative, particularly for stabilizing and rebuilding the nervous system. Any oats are tonic and nurturing, but milky oats are most so. Jim McDonald writes in his Nettles, Oats and You: “Regular usage builds up both the structure and function of nervous and adrenal tissue, resulting in a lasting strengthening effect. It is especially well suited to nervous exhaustion due to debilitative nervous system disorders, overwork (mental or physical), drug abuse, or trauma and should be used during nay period of prolonged stress.” Even a bowl of oatmeal can be restorative in this way–and taking oatstraw or milky oats is all the better!
  • Lemon Balm (Melissa Officinalis): Helps us recover from nervous exhaustion, insomnia, or low spirits. Has a gentle and powerful effect on the central nervous system over time.  I find lemon balm a fantastic tea for after land healing work!
  • Stinging Nettles (Urtica Dioca): Stinging nettle is a first-rate adaptogen (herb that helps us adapt to stress) that restores depleted or exhausted adrenal gland. One of the many things they do is shift our bodies from “adrenal mode” (sympathetic nervous system) to a parasympathetic nervous system state. Jim McDonald writes in Nettles, Oats, and You, “I consider it, along with Burdock, one of the most universally beneficial herbs to use as a basis for restoring and maintaining well being.”  Nettle seeds and nettle leaf should be taken consistently, long term.  Nettle seeds work a little different than the leaf–the seeds provide stable energy, while the leaf I find is more rebuilding.  Yes, they sting–use gloves when you harvest them, and as soon as you cook them even a little, they stop stinging :).  They are well worth having a patch in your garden or yard!  I have these every day as part of my stress management regimen!

 

There are many more healing plants for rebuilding the adrenals and reducing stress. Others include astralagus, ashwaghanda, schizandra, elethro root, wood betony, skullcap, ginseng, blue vervain, passionflower, holy basil, and reishi. (I’ll also mention that my sister and I are in the process of starting a herbal healing blog, so I’ll be posting much more on this subject there and will let you know when I do!).

 

Supporting our Souls: Healing Retreat Space

Another important thing that you can do is get a way from it all, to have a healing retreat and space away from everything else. This needs to be a place that is free of the damage you are seeking to heal as a land healer and from other common stressors. A small spot in a protected state forest, a small garden in your back yard, a camping retreat, a quite spot in a park–somewhere that you can go and simply enjoy being in nature, in its regenerated state.  This stuff can wear and grate on you, and you need respite from it. I think that’s part of why this concept of solstalgia is so useful to think through–the reason its so bad is that you can’t get away from it, and once you are conscious you need to do so, you can seek ways of responding.

 

Daily Protective Workings

A daily protective magical working is critical to helping you maintain your balance as a land healer or simply as a person, awake and alive, in today’s times. Most modern estoteric traditions offer some kind of protective working. The primary one that I use comes from the AODA, which is called the Sphere of Protection. I really love this ritual–it takes about 5 minutes a day, and it does a number of key things: invoking positive qualities of the elements, banishing negative qualities of the elements, connecting to the three currents, and creating a sphere of protection around the physical, etheric, and astral body.  I wrote about it more extensively for our first issue of Trilithon, which is now available freely online here.  Its a ritual that takes some time to learn; the best place to learn it is in either of John Michael Greer’s books: The Druidry Handbook or The Druid Magic Handbook.  I can give a brief synopsis of it here, however.

 

First, the Druid begins by invoking the four power (in some form: elements, dieties, archangels, etc) and physically and
energetically forming an Elemental Cross while standing facing north. Second, the Druid invokes the four elemental gateways by invoking positive qualities of the four elemental energies (Air, Fire, Water, Earth) and banishing the negative qualities of those elements in each of the four quarters.  As the druid does this, she moves through each of the quarters, drawing symbolism for each of the directions, calling in each element verbally, and using visual components.  And then she does the same thing as she banishes to drive away negativity. The Druid then invokes the remaining three gateways: the telluric current (Spirit Below), the solar current (Spirit Above), and the lunar current (Spirit Within)
using language, action, and visualization. The final part of the SOP draws upon these seven energies and circulates light in a protective sphere. This protective sphere is most typically placed around a person.

 

If the SOP doesn’t float your boat, you can do other kinds of rituals.  A good one is the Summoning or Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram (you want to alternate between summoning and banishing in order to achieve balance in your life).  Be aware that not all daily rituals that druid orders offer are protective: OBOD’s light body exercise is a rejuvenating and energizing ritual, and is extremely useful in its own right, but it is not protective in nature.  I like to use it in conjunction with the SOP or when I’m doing other kinds of work, but I don’t depend on it to keep the gunk off of me as I go throughout my daily living!

 

 

A fanatastic example of the energies of life and light--frog eggs from my parents' pond. I am so excited to meet them when they emerge!

A fantastic example of the energies of life and light–frog eggs from my parents’ pond that I saw the last time I visited them. I am so excited to meet them when they emerge!

Working with Energies of Light and Life

One of the other things that’s important to keep in mind is the balance of life and death, of light and darkness. We have both in our lives, and certainly, if you are doing land healing work (particularly the kind I talked about last week) you will see your fair share of pain and darkness. You can’t be doing the hard work of palliative care, working wit sites that will be destroyed and other forms of land healing constantly or it will fatigue you. It’s important that you go to the spaces that are abundant, and alive, and rejuvenate your energies there.  It’s important that you take frequent breaks from this work to balance your energies. I think its easy to fall into the trap of seeing everything as destroyed or damaged–and depending where you live, the balance of those things may be off–but there are always places where it isn’t so.  Even focusing on the dandelions growing up out of the sidewalk, rejuvenating compacted soil and bringing the blessings of healing medicine, is so important!

 

Embrace the magic of the spring, of the seed and of the promise of rebirth and life.  Grow some sprouts or start some seedsKeep a garden.  Bring in light into your physical home and life–open the windows, embrace the sun.  If you work with deities, make sure you work with some that focus on life and living. If you do yearly celebrations, you do all of them, and use the spring holidays for your own healing and rejuvenation.

 

Bardic Arts and Creative Expression

Of course, spending time cultivating your own creative gifts can be a source of healing energy and life–and is a critical balance for you if you are engaging in difficult healing work. I especially like to do this through my painting and ecoprinting work–I like to bring in the energies of life and light, and paint them in ways that help others embrace the energies of the earth.  I wrote about this much more extensively on my post on permaclture and self care.

 

Visiting Well-Tended and Well-Loved Natural Spaces

Me on a winter trip to Phipps Conservatory in Pittsburgh, PA. This whimsical space is in the middle of their orchid room!

Me on a winter trip to Phipps Conservatory in Pittsburgh, PA. This whimsical space is in the middle of their orchid room!

Another excellent balance for this more difficult land healing work is to spend time visiting places where humans are cultivating the land carefully, meaningfully, and with love.  This is another way to bring light and life back into your life and help drive away the darkness. Any small organic family farm often fits this bill, as do places like botanical gardens, nature sanctuaries, retreat centers, botanical sanctuaries, permaculure design sites, and more.  Time spent here, even a few hours, can really help you remember that lots of good people are doing good healing work in the world, and helping keep the scales balanced.

 

Talking About It with Others

Just speaking about your feelings, especially surrounding the stuff that I opened this post with, I believe is a really important part of our own healing work.  We have to, as Joanna Macy suggests, come to terms with what is happening, be able to voice our grief and pain about what we see, and find ways forward.  JMG talks about this as going through the stages of grief and working toward acceptance–and we do need to do that inner work.  I have found that talking to others about this really, really helps move me forward.  I know I’m not alone.  I know that others share my concerns, feel what I feel, and there is great release! (I think we even do some of this here, on the blog, for those that are scattered at a distance!)

 

 

 

Having the Tools in Hand and Embracing the Power of Hope

Being in the mindest of hope and having the tools is another especially important part of this self care practice.  I think that a lot of us feel powerless, disempowered, hopeless, and that is the worst thing.  That kind of thinking leads down a dark path that you do not want to walk.  Instead, I encourage you to focus on the power of hope even as you go about healing the destruction of others.  A personal example, here, might best illustrate this point.  As I frequently write on this blog, my primary way forward has been through my integration of many sustaining and regenerative practices that fall under my path of druidry: permaculture design, wildcrafting and wildtending, land healing, herbalism, ritual and celebration, inhabiting the world gently, and more. I have found that the more I focus on the good I can do, the better I feel. I think I was at my lowest with this stuff around 2008-2010, before I discovered and began practicing permaculture and herbalism.  As a druid that had been waking up and paying attention for a few years at that point, I was hit with the enormity of it all, but I had lacked the tools for change, lacked a lot of the healing approaches of any kind (physical or spiritual).  And so, instead, I kind of brooded on it, thought about it a lot, sat with it, but didn’t know what to do. I think my original edition of the Tarot of Trees book really reflects that state of mind: I wrote an introduction that was kind of demoralizing and talking about what was happening like a giant wave that nobody could stop–I was painting the trees in honor of the ones that had been cut. Consequently, when I re-released the Tarot of Trees 3rd edition eariler this year, I created a new card called “regeneration” and rewrote a good deal of the opening of the book to reflect that hope and renewed perspective. I give this example because the difference in what I wrote, and how I thought, had everything to do with the empowering tools of hope–and I found those tools through integrating my spiritual practice of druidry with the practical tools of permaculture.  I was now doing something, something that was making a difference, and that was incredibly important.  Melancholia strikes us all at times about this stuff–but its about not staying in that space that can help us keep moving forward.

 

Ultimately, a lot of what I share on this blog is  response to all of this–the power of doing something.  I talked about the implications of doing something in my post earlier this year, on making a difference, and how its the act of trying, of exerting effort, that really is key for our own growth.  It heals us, it heals our lands, and it helps, I believe, brighten our very souls. My solution to the solastalgia, to the destruction, is to do what I can to build a better today and a brighter tomorrow and to equip myself with the best tools to do so: the esoteric and spiritual practices of druidry, the knowledge and ethics of permaulcture, and a smattering of other good stuff: ecology, herbalism, natural building, playing in the mud, painting trees, community activism, and more.  I hope you’ll continue with me on this journey–because more land healing posts–and a lot of other things–are to follow!

 

A Spring Equinox Message: The Gifts of Druidry in the World March 20, 2016

Today marks the Spring Equinox, Alban Eiler, a time of new beginnings, of the balance between light and darkness, between summer and winter, between hope and despair.  Given the energy of today, and the challenges before us, I’d like to take some time to frame what I see as some of  druidry’s gifts to the world–the things that a druid path can do for the land and its peoples. I’m particularly  motivated to write this post today because today marks the end of my 10th year as a druid and I am moving into my second decade along this path–and so I’d like to share some of the insights I’ve had along the way.  I want to start with a disclaimer–as the adage goes, if you ask 5 different druids what druidry means to them, you’ll get 10 different answers. I am not speaking on behalf of all druids or for all of druidry, but here today, I am speaking my own truth and path, as I am apt to do on this blog :).

 

Early Sunrise

Early Sunrise

Look around at the land and waters that–in whatever shape that landscape is in.  At one time, that land was deeply loved and respected. Humans who lived there cultivated a sacred connection and awareness with it. All indigenous cultures have cultivated such relationships, and all of our bloodlines trace back to some indigenous culture or another if we go far enough back. Before industrialization, or even agriculture, our relationship with the land was much, much different. Our ancestors, rooted in the places they were, knew every inch of the edge of the river and how to build rafts to navigate the rocks and fish. They knew the medicine of root and stem and seed. They knew where the harvests came at what time of the year, and how not to take too much. They knew the names of the trees, the spirits of the animals, and were intimately connected with their surroundings. They knew that their own survival depended on the delicate balance that they had the privileged and responsibility of maintaining. The plants evolved with humans, so much so, that many of the most food and medicine-rich plants depend on us for survival, for nurturing, for scattering their seeds. How did that happen? Over countless millennia, we evolved together, creating mutual dependencies. This is why Pennsylvania forests used to be 30% chestnut–that wasn’t by accident, that was by human design (for more on this, see M. Kat Anderson’s Tending the Wild). Imagine being the land, the spirits of the land, and holding those memories of the time before.

 

And then, many things changed and time moved on. Knowledge and sacred connections lost, so much so that today, most people can’t identify more than a handful of plants or trees and do not even have basic knowledge of the world around them.  Instead, humans today in industrialized countries are sold a myth, the myth of progress ,strong as any other of religious belief, and embraced with the same kind of furor (see John Michael Greer’s works, particularly Not the Future we Ordered for more on this perspective). Wrapped up the myth of progress are myths of the importance of consumer goods, of smartphones and electronics that must be replaced every two years, of chemical-ridden pesticides that lace our foods and invade our bodies.

 

Supporting that myth allows the whole-sale pillaging of the land and its inhabitants. Supporting that myth allows national forests to be fracked, the same patches of forest to be repeatedly logged for two centuries, our waterways to be filled with poisons, our mountaintops removed. These are things that I witness every day here, in my beloved Appalachian mountains in Western PA. If relationships to the land were a pendulum, we humans of toady have swung so far in the other direction from our indigenous ancestors, or even those living closer to the land a few centuries before.

 

Our lands, waters, and plant spirits still hold the memories of those who came before, of the relationships that once were cultivated.  There is, among them, a great mourning and loss collectively. They hold memories of humans who used to care for them so carefully. Here in the Americas, at least here in Pennsylvania, that sacred relationship between land and human was abruptly severed several centuries ago with the driving out of the native peoples and the re-settlement of Pennsylvania by those of European decent. With the new humans, the last centuries saw tremendous amounts of pillaging and destruction, fueled by the myth of progress.

 

Since that time, and to today, the myth of progress changes our behaviors and relationship radically with nature. Humans, here in the US, now spend 87% of their time indoors and another 6% of their time in automobiles or other forms of enclosed transit.  That means just seven percent of the average American’s life today is spent outside. And of that seven percent, how much is spent mowing the grass? Spraying dandelions? Walking on pavement among tall buildings?  How much of that seven percent is spent with our heads in our phones rather than looking around us?  And beyond these statistics, I think there’s a general disregard for life, for nature that is dominant in our collective cultural understanding.

 

Druidry, I believe, is one good sign that the pendulum is starting to swing back in the right direction. Humans are once again are seeking that ancestral connection to the land that is still in our blood, and in the memories of the forests, the stones, the rivers. Learning how to see, and interact, with nature is critical to helping that pendulum swing back in the other example.  As a very simple example, last week, I was walking back from campus after teaching, and I came across a cluster of cut-back bramble bushes. I looked at those canes, getting just ready to bud, with tiny tufts of green coming from out of the buds, and I could see the promise of spring there. I was looking forward to the Equinox, and also feeling the sadness at seeing things budding a month earlier than usual due to climate change. The tips of the canes, too, held a tremendous surprise–when sliced longways (which someone had done recently to trim them), the cane of the blackberry bush forms a 5 pointed star, a pentagram, not so dissimilar from the pentagram I found in the chickweed plant some years ago. This cultivation of the sacred is, in part, observing sacred patterns of nature, unfolding around me, on my daily walk home from campus. And noticing the nature–the birds, the trees, appriciating them and knowing their names. And its more than patterns–the bramble holds medicine, food, protection–and as a druid, I’ve worked to learn about all of its gifts.  As I look in awe at the bramble, I wonder how many people have cultivated such a sacred relationship with the land in this area? That even would look at the bramble and be willing to look closer?

 

Spirit of Chickweed Painting

Spirit of Chickweed Painting

As a Druid, you might be the first adult person in several generations to see that land with something other than indifference, profit, or going into the land for the sole purpose of taking. As a druid, you might be the first to enter those lands again, in a long time, to see those lands not only in appreciation, but as sacred spaces. You might be the first who is willing to tend those lands again, to help heal, to help regenerate, to give rather than pillage and take. When I, as a druid, walk into the forest, I am often aware that I am reconnecting with lands that have not been thought of, or engaged with, as sacred for a very long time. What a gift it is to the land, to really see it. To interact with it. To hold it sacred. To be willing to learn and grow with it–in it–through it. To walk and see the buds on the trees, to see the medicine growing up out of the cracks of the sidewalks. I’m not just talking about the wild places here, but all places. You can sense the sacredness of the soil, even below the buildings that sit on it. You realize that there is no unsacred space, that all spaces and places, regardless of their damage, are still part of this great living earth–as you, too, are a natural part of it.

 

For many druids, interacting with the land in a sacred way is one of your gifts to the world–and it is an incredibly powerful gift that takes a lifetime of exploration to truly understand and realize.

 

The act of opening yourself up to these experiences are, for many, the first steps down the druid path. As one of the Archdruids in AODA, I spend a lot of time talking with new druids on the path and mentoring druids who are just starting their journey and studies. I read letters that they write that tell us about why they want to become druids, what they hope to gain from druidry. So many times, it seems that rebuilding that connection to nature is one of the key reasons that they join. To many people, when they first find druidry, are excited.  They often say, “This is the path that describes me, as I already am!”  This gives them a word that finally fits their self-image, the person that they are becoming with each passing breath and each cycle of the sun and moon. And every one of those letters, without fail, talks about reconnecting to the natural world!

 

Another tragic part of the myth of progress, asks us to give our power, especially our creative gifts, up and to let others provide us entertainment.  It saps our creative energy, and we are disempowered as creative thinkers and doers in the world.  Therefore, a second major gift of druidry, I believe, is regaining that creative force, the flow of awen, and using it for good in our own lives and in the lives of others in the world. Even the act of meditation alone allows us to “clear” our minds; the AODA’s sphere of protection or OBOD’s light body exercises allow for the Awen to flow within us again. And we desperately need these creative responses here and now–through music, poetry, artwork, dance, painting, crafts, the written word–to help us make sense of, process, and respond to what is going on. The creative arts help us make sense of the world and what is happening and can reach people meaningfully and deeply in ways that we otherwise could not.  At least in my own experience, my path in the bardic arts helps give a voice to those who cannot speak for themselves and to cultivate reconnection through my writings on this blog, my artwork, my teaching, and more.

 

Get out into the world!

Get out into the world!

The world is changing quickly around us, and for many, darkness appears to be settling in. Things are growing more frenzied, more desperate, more terrifying. The true tolls of incessant pillaging of the planet are now so visible and known, and will continue unfold in the years and generations to come. Just a few weeks ago, we passed the 2 degree threshold that so many have said, over the years, that we shouldn’t pass.  Those in denial are, well, still in denial, and the temperature keeps rising. But the rest of us must understand and work with our own grief, our own responses. Many come to druidry because they are looking for some path forward through this mess, and Druidry helps them take such a path, a path deeper into the landscape, into their own creative gifts, and through the difficulty that we are all facing.  Druidry, perhaps, gives us hope and reconnection–exactly the kind of thing, I believe, we need as we move forward into this unknown and terrifying territory. Many druids find themselves integrating spiritual responses with other kinds of responses–permaculture, for example, is a fantastic “get your hands dirty” compliment to this path (and certainly, its a big part of my own druid practice).

 

To wrap up, some of the greatest gifts I see of druidry are (in true triad form):

  • A gift to the land through the cultivation of a sacred relationship, awareness, and active healing work, but also through recognizing, confronting, and doing something about the predicament we face as a planet.
  • A gift to its people through the cultivation of the creative human arts, to give the land voice in the world through music, story, song, artwork, dance and more.
  • A gift to ourselves and to the nurturing of our souls, to give us tools, and outlets of response and the freedom to engage in bardic arts that reconnect humans and their landscape.

 

Finding the druid path is a gift, a blessing, and the ramifications of it go well beyond just ourselves. Often, for the first few years down this path, you are absorbing, like a sponge, all that you can–and things are very inward focused. You have a lot of healing work to do on your own inner landscape, and that’s critical work to do, work that will take a lifetime. But at some point, that sponge becomes full, and you are now ready to reverse the process, and give those gifts back to thee world. Druidry is a gift to the world, if we make it so. And on this sacred day, when so many things hang in the balance, it helps us re-balance our own lives, hearts, and souls.

 

A Druid’s Primer on Land Healing, Part II: Energetic Healing vs. Palliative Care February 20, 2016

In my post last week, I discussed the different ways that we might heal the land including physical land healing, healing human-land connections, and various forms of energetic healing. Today, I want to delve deeply into the  aspects of energetic land healing, and further probe the difference between energetic healing work and energetic palliative care. I think this distinction is critical for how to develop rituals and how to work with the energy of the land in various ways.

 

To do this, I’m going to share with you a few different kinds of sites in my immediate surroundings in Western PA and look at the circumstances under which these sites might be healed. In fact, I’m picking some of the worst sites I know of physically on my present landscape here in Western PA–I figure that if we can talk about land healing at the worst kinds of sites that I know of, we can do quite a bit with smaller sites with less damage.  So here we go, with a visit to the boney dump and fracking well!

 

The Mountains of PA (Cambria County, looking out onto Bedford and Somerset Counties)

The Mountains of PA (Cambria County, looking out onto Bedford and Somerset Counties)

Energetic Healing vs. Palliative Care

As I established last week, there are (at least) two different kinds of energetic work you can do on the land:

 

Energetic Land Healing  implies that you are raising some kind of positive energy to help enliven, awaken, and rejuvenate the land. One way to think about this energy is like giving someone who is has had an extended sickness some good chicken soup and herbs that are restorative and energizing in nature, and helping set them more firmly on their path towards healing. You may help someone who hasn’t walked in a while get up and take a few steps and encourage them in many ways. This energizes them, it enlivens them, and it allows them to more quickly heal from their illness. Energetic land healing functions in much the same way, with the goal being to raise positive energy for the land to help it regenerate physically and spiritually.

 

If you go to a place in desperate need of energetic healing, you’ll often feel a deadness there, a wrongness, either stagnation like nothing is moving, or other energetic problems.  It may be very closed off and skittish, like an abused animal, withdrawing and staying far away from any sign of new potential abuse.  I usually feel these feelings in the pit of my stomach.  Our English language lacks good terminology for how this feels, but its that heaviness and sadness you feel at a site that has been severely damaged and is struggling to heal, and doesn’t want humans to enact any more damage.  The longer the abuse has gone on, and the most serious the abuse, the more you’ll feel it using whatever spiritual senses you have (heck, even people not very attuned usually can feel it at strong sites). The site, as it regrows and heals, eventually resonates differently, feeling healthier and happier as the land can regrow around it. But you’ll also see the first signs of regrowth and life at these sites.  (Most of my experience in this area, by the way, is from logged forests and poisoned rivers returning to health–its possible that different kinds of sites would resonate differently than I’m describing here!)

 

Palliative care is a very different thing.  There are places on our physical landscape that do not need a jolt of healing energy–they need the opposite.  They need to be put to sleep, to be reduced in vibration and awareness, because the pain is just too great. Sites where active pain and suffering on behalf of the land, the animals, and anything else there are good examples: and as I’ll demonstrate in the latter part of this post, poisoned waterways and fracking sites are two of those sites.

 

Energetically, sites in need of palliative care often feel differently than those in need of energetic healing.  Usually, sites in need of palliative care feel like they are actively suffering.  They are awake through a horrific experience, and they actively suffer and mourn.  For example, once I was driving to a friend’s house on a new route and I was struck with this awful feeling–suffering, pain, misery, all through my stomach.  I had to pull over, and as I did, I got out of the car and climbed up on the ridge to see what lay beyond it.  There was an enormous strip mine that was stripping the land for gravel–hundreds of acres, horrible pools of chemically treated water.  It felt utterly horrible (nearly all of these kinds of mines do, I’ve found in the time since).  I uttered a short prayer for the land, promised to return, and went home and decided my next course of action (I didn’t feel prepared that day, and I had to meditate on what to do for the mine). This was a site not in need of energetic healing (as it was actively being destroyed) but palliative care.

 

Actively destroyed sites aren’t the only ones in need of palliative care, however. The most tragic, perhaps, are the sites that are fine at present, but are destined to be destroyed or stripped in the near future.  These are the hardest cases, in my opinion, because you are powerless to stop what is going to happen and the vibrant, living beings there are trapped and powerless–fear and mourning often radiates these sites. But here, you can do something, and that something is palliative care. You might think about a forest that is about to be logged or is in the process of being logged, but the loggers haven’t yet gotten to the area where you are at. The last thing you want to do is inject this space with healing energy and light–you want to put it to sleep, to soothe the wounds, to try to provide some energetic distance between the forest and the chainsaw. I’ve found myself in the position, many more times than I would have liked to experience. I shared suggestions for individual trees here, but I will add to those suggestions at the end of this article.

 

The key for energetic land healing vs. palliative care is in the nature of the damage, the nature of the healing, and the current situation of the site. To illustrate the finer points between them, let’s take a walk through Western Pennsylvania and see two critical situations that call for very different kinds of healing responses: the boney dump and the fracking well.

 

The Boney Dump: A Call for Physical and Energetic Healing

All through the landscape in Pennsylvania you can find what is known locally as a “boney dump” (they are also referred to as spoil tips, boney heaps, pit heaps, or gob piles in other parts of the world). They are common in areas where any kind of deep mining took place, and they basically represent everything that came out of the mine that wasn’t what was actually being mined. Because theses sites are near old mining operations, they may also have water ponds designed to collect some of the worst acid mine runoff (which pollutes local streams and makes them, in our neck of the woods, sulfurous and poisoned).

Boney Dump from Google Maps

Boney Dump with runoff pools (from Google Maps)

In the photo above is a really bad boney site, compliments of Google maps–it has various nasty colored ponds and pools full of various kinds of sediment they are trying to keep out of the waterways (which doesn’t usually work) along with the boney pile itself (which you can see in the bottom left of the image as well as in the bottom right–the areas that look like a pile of gravel with only a few trees or that look mostly bare). Most of the mines around here closed in the 1970’s or so, but some of these piles are much, much older than that. In 45+ years, they have not regrown in all of that time. After 1978, the US government required that companies “clean up” old mining sites with the passage of the Mine Reclamation Act. But a lot of these sites were there long before the cleanup act took place. And even for new sites, there is the letter of the law and the actuality of the law in practice. Let’s take a look at a site that was “regenerated” by the mining company. These are photos from the same site, just on the ground.

Runoff from a boney dump

The photo above shows a runoff area from a boney dump and some of those pools; poor management means that this is never regrown because it floods each year. Trees, plants, and so on can’t get enough traction to regrow. Of course, there is no soil at all on this site, so nothing can get traction even without the floods (see next photo).

Not much grows on a boney dump (this site has been "regenerated" by mining companies 30+ years ago, and still this is all that there is here!)

This is an area that doesn’t get flooded and is relatively flat, and yet, it still has not regrown either (this site was “regenerated” in the late 1970’s).  The site has no soil to speak of, and it lacks the biological diversity and scattered seeds to even begin to regrow soil.  They did plant some scrub grass, some red pine trees (see the trees in the background there), which barely make it on the soil.  Even the grass struggles to survive here, growing on straight rock.  Over fifty years, and still nothing is really growing.

 

So in terms of healing, we certainly have our work cut out for ourselves at these sites that span hundreds of acres and are dotted all over the landscape. I think its sad because when I was growing up, because these sites were all over the place, I never gave them much thought–its just how it was.  I think a lot of people feel that way–you don’t really talk about the sulfur creek or boney dump, you just kind of ignore them and avoid them.

 

And so part of the active healing work is simply acknowledging them and spending time with them, recognizing that these lands are in need of healing and of human touch.  However, given the enormity of these problems at these sites, if it weren’t for my druid path and permaculture design, I’d be at a complete loss as to what to do, and would probably cry for it and move on, or ignore it like the other locals. But no! We are going to do something to heal these damaged lands (and I feel a particular resonance with the old mine sites, given that so many of my own ancestors were miners). Around here they are abundant and take up thousands of acres–driving 5-10 miles in any direction is likely to have you encountering one or more of them.

 

How would we classify this boney dump in terms of the healing work at hand?  We must classify it both in terms of its relationship with people at present as well as its ability to regenerate. The good news is that the people doing the damage got what they want and are, for the most part, long gone, and with the exception of the acid mine runoff (which is a problem being actively addressed by a number of municipalities in the area), these sites are pretty much left alone. The mines aren’t here any longer and most of this land is essentially a no-man’s land.  Because nobody visits these sites, these are places that nobody cares about. This means, to me, the boney dumps represent the exact kind of place where you can heal on the physical and the energetic levels and do so effectively.

 

I truthfully feel more confident, at present, in my energetic healing abilities for these sites and that’s where the bulk of my first set of efforts have been going. Due to the lack of life and extremely long-term suffering, and the stifling of nature’s own ability to heal, these sites have a kind of numbness and deadness. These are the feelings that comes from lands that have been stripped bare for centuries–there is hardly any stirring of the earth energies, what is known as the telluric, in these sites. I’ll share too that before these sites were mined, they were clear cut, as I discovered from old photos of many of the sites.

 

This means we are talking, likely, several centuries of damage on the part of humans. What these sites need, then, to help jump start the healing is the burst of energy that can help these lands energetically and later physically heal (going back to the as within, so without principle). Given this, these lands are prime targets for some of the energetic healing work discussed above: they won’t be damaged again, nobody bothers with them, they are many, they are remote and open, and they are in prime need of healing. I’ll explore some of the ways of doing this at the end of this post and in my next post.

 

On the matter of physical healing (also discussed in my last post),  I’ve only returned to PA six months ago, but I’ve already taken my first steps in working out a plan using permaculture design principles to help heal a small patch of one of these sites to see what techniques will be effective. This plan is in its infancy stages, and its is part of why I was so interested in seed balls and refugia! To start my work, I have been scattering seeds for plants that can help build soil if they are able to take root–I believe its the soil-less nature, combined with mostly black shale that heats up and cooks all summer long, makes the sites inhospitable to plant life and susceptible to terrible erosion.  The stuff that is on the surface shouldn’t be there, so the best thing I can work to do is to bury it again! This is a slow process, and I’ll report on the physical angle more after I’ve done more experimentation on the boney dump I’ve adopted for this purpose :). At this point, I don’t know if any of my physical healing methods will work, but I am going to keep trying.

 

The Fracking Well: Palliative Care

Most people these days are aware, at least in a theoretical sense, of the problem with fracking wells and fracking more generally on the landscape.  But seeing these wells firsthand, feeling the horribleness of the energies that surround them, is an entirely different thing. Its like something goes heavy and cold in the pit of your stomach; they have a very toxic, burdened energy.  Many of the wells that have been there for a long time have literally an unsettling deadness that creeps into your bones the longer you stand near them.  But also at the site of the well, so much suffering is taking place–suffering, mourning, and sadness from the life that is stuck near the well.  You can feel that suffering, actively, in the plants and land directly around the well.

 

The active gas fracking well, as well as conventional gas well, is a site of damage to the land, to the waters, to the air, to wildlife, to the human populations–everyone and everything around these wells suffer.  People who are working near them are poisoned. The surface of the land is stripped to put in the well, disrupting the ecosystem. Gas companies spray around the well several times each year to keep the grass down.  They visit the wells frequently, “maintaining” the site, tearing up the land with their trucks and leaving, sometimes, pools of oil near the wells just exposed to the air.  They have huge tanks of water that have poison signs on them that make the air all around the well stink and smell really foul.  The waters beneath the land are poisoned and that poisoning creeps into waterways and into people’s drinking water.  The physical land beneath the site is poisoned. They are all over the place around here–I even found a number of different kinds of wells all through the Allegheny national forest, a site supposed to be “preserved” and instead is being actively desecrated:

View from Google Maps of active oil exploitation in the Allegheny National Forest in North-Eastern PA

View from Google Maps of active oil exploitation in the Allegheny National Forest in North-Eastern PA

Below is a photo of a conventional gas well (still very bad, but not as bad as fracking) on public land near where I live. This area was once all forest, now cleared and mowed to allow for the drilling equipment and the gas pipelines.

 

If you are wondering how this is possible, how so many of these wells of any kind are on public land, the answer is a bit complex and the reasons multiple.  But one of the big reasons has a lot to do with who owns the “mineral rights.” Many mineral rights here in PA are often disconnected from “surface rights” so companies who own the mineral rights have the right to get at them, destroying the surface in the process. There’s a lot of fossil fuel under the ground in the Marcellus shale, and people can make a quick buck by keeping their land and selling the mineral rights to the gas or mining companies: and that’s exactly what’s been happening here for over 100 years. (Its pretty much the equivalent of the water rights issue in the Western USA).

Example of cleared land around active well

Example of cleared land around active well

There are so many of these active fracking wells in Pennsylvania, and because of the active and ongoing damage, there isn’t a lot that you can do at these sites beyond palliative care. Physical land refrigeration, obviously, is not appropriate. But energetic land healing isn’t incorporate either. These are sites that are actively being harmed, over and over again. The pain and suffering is compounded through the systematic poisoning of the land, the water system, the plant and animal life, the human life, and the telluric currents (energies of the earth). And, the full long-term implications are as of yet unknown, and likely won’t be known, for several generations. Physical and energetic healing work will be left for our children, and our children’s children, and generations not yet born.

 

Given all this, palliative care is extraordinarily effective for these sites. For one, palliative care can do a number of things that energetic healing cannot, namely: helping to contain damage (sealing energetically), helping to preserve memories and resonances in the land, helping mitigate suffering on every level, putting the land “to sleep”, clearing some of the worst of the negativity. And, in doing this work, you can witness.

 

This wraps up my discussion of boney dumps and fracking wells and their relationship to energetic land healing.  I’m glad these sites have been used to serve at least a little good, in the sense that they helped convey a critical point on our journey of land healing–which will continue across the next few posts.