The Lost Language of Plants: The Ecological Importance of Plant Medicines to Life on Earth. / Stephen Harrod Buhner. Published by Chelsea Green Publishing, 2002. 325 pages, Notes, Bibliography and Index.
In The Lost Language of Plants we read how a single species of plant or animal that humans are familiar with is likely a key player in a natural network. This network uses a language that is concentrated on exchanging energies so that increase and growth can take place, so that every individual has enough to thrive on.
Phenomena of communication continue without a single “word” being exchanged, and yet, the language of chemistry is well-known throughout a plant community or ecosystem, from soil and water to seeds and fully grown plants and their pollinators.
The Lost Language of Plants defines the intelligence of soil, plants, pollinators, and other animals as predisposed to communicate: its chemistry is pervasive and recognizable. In a community each species is responsive to another, completing life-cycles and preparing for new ones. In some cases a life-cycle is decades-long or more. The plants are fragile, in the sense that their life force depends on the responsiveness of community species.
The author’s insistence that the environment has been wounded, has been “desecrated”, (the exact word the author uses) emphasizes his feeling about the violation of a sacred trust, not only for the trees, water and air, but also for ourselves because we’re recipients of the damage, the loss. We humans can and do feel it deeply, on a daily basis.
In Buhner’s text we learn how devastation that’s already occurred indicates that our connection with the natural world is broken. This breakdown is seen in two of the most egregious forms of stealing from nature: the proliferation of pharmaceuticals in our water supply and the destabilization of health through increased use of anti-biotics.
Explained further is that harm to the environment is activated by governmental and societal beliefs and practices that seek to save us, before questions are asked about long-term value, or giving thought to the consequences over time, we turn a blind eye, a cold heart, especially when manufacture and profit are the goals.
No one likes to experience pain, depression, sickness, or disease. Yet Buhner suggests that by not listening, not following the communication, we’ve traded for elusive goods, and as a result ensured the devastation of rich natural resources. As a progressive, tech-savvy society, we could easily be protectors of natural resources–the ones that truly make life possible, such as clean air and water.
We have instead used the righteous act of protecting national parks—those islands of natural beauty, and called it a day. That’s nice, and let’s not lose sight of that last tiny thread we have tethering us to the natural world. In our culture we go to parks to “get our natural on”. How long will islands last? How long will they be preserved? How long will their “purity” remain, if they are kept within the boundaries set for them by other interests?
Buhner uses the word “reductionist” constantly throughout his defamation of our usual mode of decision-making and goal-setting. We are so used to reductionist thinking being the only acceptable proof that we don’t doubt or review its efficacy.
Understanding the earth’s natural resources in our legacy requires intimate and close attention to the biology or natural activity taking place–when trees release pollen into the air, for example. Buhner’s “biognosis”, or knowing how environmental forces and pollination are not separate energies, but which contribute to each other at each step in the process is key to acquiring the language of plants. In return, our close attention gets us “gnosis” on plant genetics, biodiversity, communities of plants and their pollinators, all fascinating aspects of the natural world, and key to survival of all living things.
In chapter 10, Buhner discusses how losing plants to any number of causes that are human-induced, changes the scene and puts more and more stress on still viable species to carry the energetic load. Much like humans, how much stress can plants afford and still be robust, still make it into the next generation without a total breakdown? A life is co-constructive, it can’t exist for itself apart from other life.
In an image that underscores the importance of all species, Buhner relates, “Loss of plant species causes organ deterioration in ecosystems and biomes, just as it does in us (through diminishment of our food variety.)”
And later the author indicates something that has the most meaning for us today. Discussing the value of diversity in food which keeps organisms healthy and diseases like cancer out of the picture, he names a people living close to the natural world in the Kalahari Desert who regularly ingest more than 75 different plant foods. He says, “Today Americans regularly eat less than ten plants in their diet and many eat less than five.” p. 207
After 15 years in print, this book with myriad details on the natural world is still relevant. The Lost Language of Plants has a message that is thoroughly researched, with footnotes, a bibliography, index, and more: undeniable love of its subjects—all those with and without seeds and their surrounding support we call soil—as well for you, the reader, who is possibly a plant language learner.
His last chapter gives instructions for becoming closer to the natural world and learning from a tree (for example) by listening to its messages. Quotations from writers with similar viewpoints are sprinkled throughout this book. The author’s seminal work with herbs and plants is undisputed, although not well known; his books reach a wider audience. See Herbal Antibiotics, Healing from Lyme Disease and other Stephen Harrod Buhner’s works at his website, Goodreads or your library.
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