Know your Mama

I was at the grocery store the other day and the lady checking me out kept having to show my veggies to the woman bagging to find out what they were.

"Lettuce," the woman would say to the other, and I'd gently chime in with a, "It's Napa cabbage," or "It's parsley." The one that really got me though was,

"I'm ringing in the number for broccoli, but it's just not working," and again I chimed, "It's kale."

Which she laughed and said, "Oh, I don't eat this stuff."

My heart broke. "This stuff?" I understand being a little shy of the giant, pale green Napa cabbage with its curly edges poking out, especially when you could just buy the regular green sphere all tightly woven and safe, but this woman could not distinguish kale from broccoli.

Broccoli.

Summer salad with Rose of Sharon blooms

I do not plan my grocery trips. I have a small list of necessities, but I shop on feeling. I shop by "Oh, the asparagus looks good," or "We haven't had beets in awhile!" and my new favorite, "What in the world does a rutabaga taste like?" (It took me 28 years to buy a rutabaga and I'm never turning back; they're delicious). Needless to say, I'm an enthusiastic eater; I love food. The only thing that doesn't have a place in my home is mushrooms, and trust me, I'm just as disappointed in my taste buds as you can probably imagine. This natural rotation of produce and a curiosity for food links me to my ancestors; to a time when foraging for what was available was commonplace. I'm not talking Paleolithic Era, either; we're much closer to a hand-to-earth, reliant-on-the-seasonal-offerings lifestyle than our 24 hour grocery stores have led us to believe. Most of our grandparents (or great-) knew the ways of the land and relied on a bountiful garden. There are roughly 20,000 edible plants worldwide and the modern diet consists of just 20. It makes me wonder how many plants are currently sitting in that woman's kitchen as I type this. Does she know the joy of a meal cooked with fresh herbs or a juicy raspberry in its summer peak; the snap of a sugar pea? What of the mustard greens pulled from the hillside or the mulberries picked with stained fingers? Do you think she's ever delighted in violet jelly or nettle pie?

Ramps popping through the forest floor

The real note, though, isn't the fact that middle-American diets are lacking in fruits and vegetables. I imagine outside of my small Appalachian town the unfamiliarity with broccoli, or jackfruit for that matter, is wildly unheard of. The part that really stands out to me is how out of touch we are with the land. We know the canned corn will be there on the shelf; the apples shining and ready for us, packaged easily in their bags. The potatoes that are grown in the same soil year after year, the one's that have never known the touch of a human in their entire growth cycle, are a Sunday staple. Or even the avocados - we know that no matter where we are in the states we'll have a healthy supply of them shipped right to our neighborhood grocer. What we don't know, however, is that the tender shoots of chickweed are bursting through the soil right this moment or that the forsythia that's in full bloom all around our neighborhood stimulates the immune system and gets the blood flowing - a perfect tonic after a stagnant winter. The Earth is wildly intelligent like that. The first bits of green to pop through the fresh soil are often detoxifiers. Before our modern-day cold weather comfort foods, hunter-gatherers were reliant on dried meat, nuts, roots and tubers. Mother Earth knew our bodies would need a fresh start for the season ahead; by giving to us, we're able to give back. Robin Wall Kimmerer writes of how sweetgrass is disappearing from historic areas. The theory was that over-harvesting (or harvesting without proper respect) was the reason for the decline. Her graduate student set out to prove whether this was the case and what they discovered was quite the opposite. The fields that had been left alone were crowded with old stems, while the fields that had been regularly harvested were thriving. Though half of the field had been picked, new shoots quickly took their place, while producing more shoots than what had been there before.

'With their tobacco and their thanks, our people say to the Sweetgrass, “I need you.”

By its renewal after picking, the grass says to the people, “I need you, too.”

Isn’t this the lesson of grass? Through reciprocity the gift is replenished. All of our flourishing is mutual.' - Braiding Sweetgrass, Mishkos Kenomagwen: TheTeachings of Grass

A basket full of Dandelions

When we sit upon the land, with our bodies touching the Earth, we're grounded and in flow with one another - more than you might imagine. When our body needs to destroy a pathogen or a damaged cell, it triggers the immune system to release white blood cells, which release free radicals. These free radicals have an electron imbalance that makes them electrically charged. In their quest to find a free electron, and thereby neutralize, they can attach to a healthy cell and steal their electron (damaging it in the process). The damaged cell then needs to be removed from the body so the immune system sends out more white blood cells to produce more free radicals. This cycle is burdened by the amount of free radicals present in our food, water, the air we breathe, the clothes on our back, and in turn, it leads to chronic inflammation. Chronic inflammation is the catalyst for a slew of health disorders and diseases. The Earth, however, has an infinite supply of free electrons. So when our hands are immersed in the dirt, pulling a ramp from the soil, those free electrons are flowing between the land and our bodies - neutralizing free radicals and lessening inflammation. Not to mention the oxygen and CO2 exchanged as we're face to face with a dandelion in the yard; the dandelion breathing us in and our own body taking in the dandelion. As we take these wild-grown plants into our bodies they nourishes us more than any store-bought variety ever could. They fill us up not only physically, but spiritually as well. This renewed vitality enables us to give to ourselves, our family and our communities. When we feel good, The Collective benefits.

It all begins with a gentle "hello". Reach for a new vegetable at the store, swap a few items a week with one's from the farmers market, rent a plant ID book from the library, put your hands in the dirt. Ask yourself, how well do you know your Mother? Are you a contributing member to this cycle of reciprocity or are you separate?

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References:

https://www.robinwallkimmerer.com/

https://www.healthline.com/health/grounding

I share these teachings with the intention of sparking your interest with the natural world; for when you know Her, you fight harder to protect Her. It is my hope to explain things easily and gently so you may add your magick to the world and make it a better place for all. I bow to those that have come before me and give thanks to the many resources and teachers that have shaped my practice. Everything I do is in honor to The Great Divine.