Biophilia

Biophilia

Biophilia is the love of life by humans that many believe is innate, including psychologist Erich Fromm and biologist E.O. Wilson, among others. Contact with nature plays a great role in both human psychological and physiological health. Following extreme weather and environmental events, reconnection with nature is critical for our own healing as well as the healing of the planet and nature can teach us the steps to take. On a recent hike in the Chestnut Ridge Heritage Nature Preserve in South Carolina, we walked through an area with lots of downed trees and dormant life forms. I was feeling sad about the destruction in our area, but then my husband and I rounded a corner higher up on a second loop and we saw lichen, plant life in varying shades of green, as well as bright red berries. My spirits immediately lifted from seeing the rich greens, which I believe we also may be innately programmed to appreciate since green is the color most associated with new life. The red berries which attract birds and other animals also touched my heart, because they seemed breathtakingly beautiful–especially after having walked through the more wounded landscape on the earlier part of the trail.

The Enticing Earth in Winter

Red is often considered a power color by many people, who believe it conveys self-confidence and status. The color red attracts birds and other creatures and is the way many plants ensure their propagation. I noticed all the life on the ground precisely because these luminous red berries caught my eye too. Even though there were dried out fern mosses as well as healthy ones, and fallen pine needles and dead leaves, I was drawn to the life affirming aspects of the landscape more than I was to what had perished and was decomposing. Yet, I did not wish for there to be no dying aspects of nature, because I would not have appreciated what was living nearly as much. The realization that life was continuing in an area that had suffered so much harm and in the dead of winter filled me with hope.

The Royalty of Every Day Life

As we hiked higher up the ridge, I suddenly spotted this packera obovata, or running groundsel plant in a clump of dead leaves with twigs and sweet gum balls. Though the alkaloids of these plants are toxic to humans and some animals if eaten, people sometimes take derivatives of these plants to treat diabetes, high blood pressure, menstrual cramps, bleeding, and chest congestion, among other uses. Despite the potential dangers to humans when these plants are ingested, they are beneficial to woodlands. They are called running groundsel because they spread across the ground providing cover for insects and smaller creatures and they also help stem erosion. Their beautiful yellow flowers that appear in springtime add even more color to the forest floor. I was drawn to the rich purple color of the undersides of their deep green leaves, which struck me as regal and indicative of life’s preciousness. Green always makes me think of new life and health and is calming to my spirit. For me, seeing beauty in natural settings, especially in more unkempt areas or in places that have been impacted by storms or fires, helps me believe that nature will attempt to regenerate and that we can find ways to carry on following our own health or emotional challenges for as long as we live.

A Dead Mother Tree Begets New Life

The 17th century Japanese poet Basho is often an inspiration to me in difficult times. He died early, at the age of fifty from a stomach illness, and never appeared to believe that life was supposed to be easy. In fact, he expected to die on one of his journeys, since travel was often difficult and dangerous, yet it was his way with connecting with nature and finding harmony in the natural world. The last haiku he wrote was his death poem, translated as:

sick on my journey
only my dreams wander     
these desolate moors

Though this may sound rather dark, it appeals to me now since we do live in precarious times. More importantly, it offers a glimmer of hope since his dreams continue to wander., even as he knows he is approaching death. I feel hopeful when I see dead trees that are decomposing naturally, since I know that they will help make new life possible even in places where the landscape may seem like it is leaning more towards death than life.

Out of the Clay, Life Emerges

As long as the Earth remains, whether the visible layers we see are of rich soil, clay, or even sand, there is always the possibility that new life will emerge. Bacteria and microorganisms emerge first, followed by fungi, mosses, lichens, algae and eventually plants and trees. Regeneration occurs when organisms form masses of dividing cells. Every species from bacteria to humans is capable of some form of regeneration and seeing it in process helps me visualise it in my own body. I find it miraculous that my broken bones were able to grow back to fill in the cracks, or that my mother’s brain formed new neural pathways after her stroke. If all we ever experienced was birth and death, without the possibility of regeneration while we are alive, then things would seem a lot more hopeless.

The Beauty of What Remains–South Pacolet River After Helene

The second loop trail in the Chestnut Ridge Heritage Preserve takes you down to the South Pacolet River, which is the continuation of the North Pacolet River that I photographed near Saluda. The walls of the Green River Gorge surrounding the north section of the river are so steep that the river got trapped and caused massive destruction. Here there is a wider area of land between the ridges, so the water didn’t rise as high. There were still many downed trees, but there were also a lot of plants that survived. In the late afternoon light, the water appeared golden and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace, even though we could see the waterlines from Helene and previous storms, possibly even those from the storm of 1916. Water does rise and fall, so it is best not to create “permanent” structures within floodplains and especially in places where water has nowhere to go. Then nature can recover more easily, since less human detritus will end up in our waterways. It is sad but not psychologically devastating to see trees piled up on the banks, because I know they will break down and the cycle of life will continue. Seeing remnants of houses, automobiles, generators, and even children’s toys in the water or along the banks is another story that I hope doesn’t keep repeating.