The Things that Grow on Us
What moss and lichen teach us about being human
Hello Wildlings,
I am back in Sweden after ten days of being with my daughter in Seattle. She was moving to a new house and it was hard work yet joyful. I was exhausted and also at peace. When I returned home I went out into the garden to see what had come into leaf or bloom whilst I was away. I greeted this tree, this birch that grows at the back of the house. I just love her and often place my forehead against her trunk to remind myself to be still and have patience. She does not grow alone, she has become a gathering place, a living gallery of subtle life forms.
On her bark lichens bloom like fragile stars Moss whispers itself into existence in the valley of her limbs Sap seeps sweet out of her sores and into the soil.
Such abundance, such a blessing. This morning, I took time to truly witness her and I started to think of this tree as a metaphor for what it is to be human. A living thing that holds space for other lives, other forms—thoughts, anxieties, hopes. Things that grow on us.
Within us.
With us.
The moss that grows upon her base trunk, has the Latin name Hypnum Cupressiforme. It was used to stuff pillows and mattresses - the association with sleep is the origin of the genus name Hypnum (from Greek Hypnos). Mosses are simple, non-vascular plants. They don’t have roots, but they do photosynthesize, absorbing water and nutrients directly through their ‘leaves.’ They often colonize bare surfaces, preparing the way for more complex life—like emotional first responders. (I have spoken about this in one of my earlier newsletters.)
As I sit here and read more about mosses, I think about my childhood and my teenage years - what mosses grew within those shadows? In the same way that the moss does not damage the tree, the events of my life, negative and positive do not have to damage me. As a human I am able to host complexity and life is complex - though we are often told it is not. We are sold a binary story of good or bad, right or wrong, joy or sorrow - yet all of these can exist within us at the same time and it is here that lichens can help us understand more.
Lichens are not plants at all, but a symbiotic partnership between a fungus and an alga. The fungus provides structure and protection; the alga provides energy via photosynthesis. They are more a relationship than a ‘thing.’
Standing by the tree I touch the lichens; Bristly Beard which is feral and unrestrained, though soft and fragile - a little like my ‘Wildling-Self.’ The Hooded Tube Lichen, which is dry yet forms protective tubes, like little look-out posts, checking air quality and safety. Finally the Varied Rag Lichen like dried seaweed stars. I gently trace their contours, lines and shapes. What are they telling me?
That I am a relationship, not a thing.
That I am of nature, not in nature.
The tree doesn’t mind what lives on it. It stands, and it carries. So do we.
Some of what grows on us is beautiful. Some is strange. Some is old.
But none of it is unnatural. And maybe all of it belongs.
Just as we do.
Just as I do.
Just as you do.
Thanks for reading and PLEASE consider taking out a paid subscription - it truly would mean so much.
Kx