Speaking with Nature: Awakening to the Deep Wisdom of the Earth - Sandra Ingerman, Llyn Roberts 2015

Blackberry Plant - Llyn
Blackberry Plant and Wild Rose

Close your eyes and imagine the aroma of a freshly baked blackberry pie. Mmmmm. Some cooks let their berry pies cool before serving, but others serve them piping hot right from the oven. How do you enjoy yours? Blackberries also make delicious jam. A lavish spread on a thick slice of buttered grain toast is, to me, a taste of heaven.

I have always been a lover of berries, which grew abundant in the sultry summers of my New England childhood. My own children spent their early years living on a mountain in New Hampshire, so they, too, know the simple joys of picking and eating vine-ripened berries.

Despite its flavorful fruit and the untold medicinal value in its leaves and roots, Blackberry Plant is often seen as a thorny intruder. The dreaded poison ivy I grew up with is seen in the same way, although with a worse reputation because of the bubbly, itchy rash we can get by rubbing our clothes or skin against its oils and no redeeming factor of sweet sustenance.

Regardless of whether we judge a nature being as a benefit or an irritant, nature is intelligent. Prickly boundaries keep unwanted influences out while land restores. “Invasive” Blackberry and poison ivy grow where the ground has been cleared for roadways, trails, and developments. Protector plants root quickly into the land to fix nitrogen in the soil, replenish its nutrients, and prevent the soil from washing away. Blackberry rapidly transforms devastated land into an impenetrable vine forest that offers food, shade, moisture, and safe habitat for birds and small animals.

Applying prickly borders is something we can all understand. Think about a time you may have insulated an ill or elderly friend from outside stressors, stood up to a bully, pulled a frisky dog away from a baby, or demanded solitude to catch up on badly needed rest or finish a creative project.

Protector energies are a feminine expression of fierce nurturance.

In the plant world that explosion of yellow on the border of northwestern highways, known as Scotch broom, is also a protector. European immigrants imbibed an extract of Scotch broom as an herbal remedy and beverage, but it can slow your heart and make your feet and hands go numb if you ingest enough of it.

These potent defenders are the land’s immune response to threat. In contrast, the indigenous Blackberry Plants that grow in the remaining virgin forests where I live in the Pacific Northwest are small, low bushes with feathery leaves and soft, tiny thorns. Like their giant foreign cousins, they, too, are sunseekers. Yet, as native Blackberry Plants grow in balanced ecosystems, they seem happy with the plants that surround and grow with them.

No natural area is completely safe from human exploitation, and if we fiercely steward our own lands, protector plants may not take over and try to do the job. We can also take a fresh look at invaders and weeds when, due to our own action or inaction, resistant plants take over.

An interesting story is of a Washington state couple that cleared a section of rural land. When massive Blackberry thickets resulted, they decided to bulldoze them.

An Earth-revering friend asked them, “Do you ever wonder why we seem to be the only animal that’s bothered by the hard thorns and poisons of protector plants?”

This friend pointed out the obvious—that from nature’s vantage point, humans are the invaders. He suggested that since they had invited her in, the couple find a way to coexist with Blackberry Plant, rather than bulldozing her.

The people followed their friend’s advice and mowed a wide figure-eight margin through the brambles, making a path through the vine maze that left most of the plant mass intact. The owners routinely snipped any vines that ventured back to the path. In a few seasons the vines stopped growing onto the path. Everyone who walked through the infinity symbol bramble enjoyed it, especially when the berries were ripe. Plants and people appeared content.

The overrun Blackberry Plants reflected to this couple their own impact on nature. In finding a respectful solution, they took responsibility and gained appreciation for the plant’s exuberant response to their clear-cutting of the land.

Fresh exchanges like these open new possibilities between people and nature and deepen our sense of belonging with the natural world. Getting close to plants, as this couple and their friends eventually did, opens us to ecstasy.

From my own experience, one evening I entered a dense, prickly Blackberry thicket intending to fill my bowl with late summer berries for breakfast. The plants grew like wildfire alongside a path cut into a hillside near the home where I was staying. Tantalized by one particular fat, dark berry, I leaned far into the bushes, weaving my hand and arm through the prickly maze.

Was it just my imagination, or did Blackberry tease: “Love me or be ready to fight!”

“I love you,” I whispered.

The single berry was alluring, as if aching to be plucked. I leaned deeper into the bramble, driven by desire for this black-purple jewel. I moved slowly and softly without fear for the barbs. The vines seemed to relax, some even gently swayed toward me, enveloping me in a loose embrace.

That no thorns caught my clothing or bloodied my skin was a feat. The nature being captured my heart. The Blackberry Plant was beautiful and, as all of nature’s creatures are, responsive to the love I radiated.

I had similar interactions with honeybees and rattlesnakes on a vision quest some years earlier. A honeybee visited my altar daily and walked gingerly over each of my bare hands and bare feet on the final day of my quest. Snakes are calmed by singing, and I sang eye to eye for some moments with a rattler that eased its striking pose.

Science supports such experiences: water, plants, and animals display measurable molecular and often observable responses to human intent and sentiment.

What level of relating is possible between humans and nature?

Beyond what science validates, we can all open our hearts to ecstasy and sensibly explore.

Whether native or from other lands, Blackberry is a seductive lot. Her plump, mature berries release at a gentle tug, and the flesh and meat are so tender at this time they practically melt in your mouth. Having to pull at the berry any harder may pluck it off the vine, yet it will not be at peak sweetness. However, in waiting too long the taste turns bitter and the meat, pulpy.

A fierce nurturer and a generous teacher, Blackberry also guides us back to the natural rhythms of the way things grow.

Everything shares the cycles of birth, growth, and fruition—or transformation via death. The Blackberry was revered by the Celts because it taught these three goddess phases: its fruit in its early stage is green, ripening to red, then seasoning to a rich purple-black. So honored were these feminine rhythms that succulent Blackberries were often left as food for the faeries.

I can’t help but contrast Blackberry’s patience for the way things grow to modern practices that interrupt natural cycles. As a few examples: commercial harvesters collect and stock fruit in our stores before it’s ripe; an infant born in the United States has a good chance of arriving on someone else’s schedule; ancient trees are still felled despite the centuries that old forests take to grow.

Sensual Blackberries that happily soak in the sun seem to say: “What’s the hurry? Slow down! Allow things the proper time they need to grow.”

Blackberry Plant gently evolves its fruit from flower to juicy berry, demonstrating how to appreciate nature’s pace—whether we are raising a child, writing a book, building an organization, or restoring lands, waters, and forests whose growth cycle extends hundreds and thousands of years beyond our own.

In the temperate rain forest where I live, it’s easy to see that cut forests know how to replenish if left on their own. Some forest rhythms appear rapid to me, such as ferns, yellow dock, oxalis, nettles, wild Blackberries, salmonberries, and countless other ground covers that seem to sprout up overnight. Alder trees, which also restore clear-cut land, grow much faster than the spruces that develop through decades and even over centuries.

Each nature being has its cadence. Life thrives in the fertile mystery of rhythm.

Blackberry Plant tells us as much about fruition as it does about growing. Ripe Blackberries practically drop off the vine. On the other hand, berries that cling too long turn sour. Similarly, neither is it healthy for us to try to hold back when we need to change. Just as color and plumpness lure us to sweet berries, life signals to us when we’re ready for a new phase.

This message of release is poignant, as the signs are everywhere that “life as we know it” is changing. Humans have birthed wonderful creations, but at a cost of separation from the Earth and Spirit. The challenges we face now, personally and collectively, invite us to bridge these gaps and live in more whole ways.

So many of us feel and confront this push to change. Opening to the wisdom of Blackberry Plant helps us to see that: “The time is ripe. We can trust and let go to a new way of being.”

All things natural experience the feminine cycle of birth, fruition, transformation, and death/renewal. In the forest where I live, the dead trees, as well as the single moss-laden limbs of old-growth maple trees that fall to the earth, become food and habitat for other life.

As Blackberries transform in color, they also shapeshift into the birds and small animals that eat them. Then they drop to the soil to seed, finally growing into new Blackberry Plants.

Death is real. Yet, nature makes it challenging to draw a clear line between life and death. Rooted in this blur between what is alive and what is dead are tree beings that witness the passage of hundreds (some, thousands) of years. As I live amidst such ancient trees, I watch the impact these beings have on the humans who come to the forest to meet them. Urban mindsets loose their grip in the face of these giants. Without interruptions from the computer, cell phones, television, and other distractions, people hear the forest sounds. They see amazing sights and smell the sweet scent of decay. Stepping onto the spongy mosses gets them out of their heads and into their bodies. Their desire to be tied to schedules and machines gives way to a craving for deeper living.

Old trees appear almost timeless by human measurement. Trees and plants don’t know time in increments. As Blackberry Plant so gracefully suggests, honoring the natural cycles of growth takes us into innate rhythms and thus into life.

Practice

Blackberry Plant is a profound teacher of the deep feminine: her growth often mirrors human imbalance with nature; she shows up to aggressively protect tender life; and she invites ecstasy with the plant world and encourages us to honor life in all its phases.

To touch the heart of organic rhythms, make friends with the natural world and immerse in nature as often as you can. Drop agendas and schedules; forget linear time, if only for a while.

Listen to all of nature’s sounds and smell the earth’s scents. Feel the waft of breezes and the caress of plants against your skin. Look with the eyes of your heart at the birth, growth, and death/transformation all around you.

Go deeply into the rhythms of the natural world. Nature’s rhythms are your rhythms. As you transition back and move through the normal tasks and activities of modern life, try to remember the innate pulse that runs through life and transcends artificial rhythms.

We live in a relative and contradictory world. We go to work, care for our family and friends, and manage ordinary details every day. And yet we are timeless. We are the rhythm of life.

When you find it impossible to go outside, here’s a practice that will help you open to expansive rhythms and find your way through times of rapid change.

Find a comfortable space where you won’t be disturbed for some time. Lie or sit comfortably and take a few deep, refreshing breaths. Let each exhale release naturally. Relax more deeply with each out breath.

Honor the full rhythm of each breath. Feel its beginning, middle, and end as it rolls into the next. How does this feel?

Keep breathing this way for a few moments.

When you are ready, continue to relax as you simply notice the subtle body movements as each breath moves in and out of your lungs.

Allow the gentle and natural movement; enjoy that gentle undulation.

The breath is a physiological rhythm to which we can always return. As we relax into it, we can return to center, no matter what may swirl around us.

As you breathe and your restfulness deepens, reflect on daily life. As if you can look at each day in your mind’s eye, see how you breathe, move, sleep, and eat. Also note how you relate day to day with friends, family, and your work or craft.

Blackberry Plants invite us to ask: “Do I experience my life fully? Are my rhythms complete, or do I rush the moments—hurry on to what’s next?”

You may also ask:

“Do I express genuinely? Do I honor my fierce nurturing qualities—the protector within me—in daily life? Am I comfortable using prickly, even sharp boundaries when I need to do so?”

Take time to reflect. How do you feel about these questions?

What might you want to enact differently in your life?

Take all the time you like to consider these things.

When you feel complete, take a deep and cleansing breath. Allow the out breath its natural release; with it, invite thoughts, ideas, or lingering feelings to ease, as well.

Take another long and refreshing breath. With the exhale, let go of whatever is ready to let go. Ahhhh.

Continue to breathe and release what’s ready to go with each exhale.

There is nothing to do or be in these moments. The ordinary constraints of linear time dissolve into the rhythm of each breath.

When fully relaxed, invite deep stillness. Allow noises, thoughts, and feelings to simply flow in and out with each breath.

Take your time.

Travel with your breath to “no time.”

Merge with, or slip beneath, bodily rhythms to the unconditional pulse of who you really are.

Allow what arises during this time to simply be.

Thoughts may come and go.

Allow everything to dissolve into one rhythm—the All.

Take all the time you desire. Sink in as deeply as you can.

When you are complete with this experience, or when it’s no longer fresh, release a long and relaxing exhalation.

Then let out another big breath.

Now begin to gently wiggle toes and fingers. Move and stretch your whole body to bring your awareness fully back into the room. Open your eyes whenever you feel ready.

Look around.

What do you see?

If inspired, you can write in a journal or contemplate your experiences.

How would you like to bring these insights to daily life?

Then drink a glass of fresh water and take a leisurely walk in or out of doors, preferably with bare feet. Ground and integrate the deep intrinsic rhythms you invited.