ritual permutations 5

*Within this writing, I use the term catalyst species, in place of invasive species coined by the naturalist, herbalist and educator Calyx Liddick.

What would it mean for me to work from a sense of deep home? What would it mean for me to take care of the land and my community as if my life depended on it?

These are central questions from the evocative titled article Becoming Indigenous by Katherine Golub, a reference to “In the Footsteps of Nanabozho: Becoming Indigenous to Place” by Robin Wall Kimmerer. I held this question – sensed and considered deeply in this painting.

This is an intriguing title; one in which she defies being possible. a newcomer cannot have the same tether as someone that has been present, so long, that the land in which holds you is really your mothers back. Your ancestors buried in, that has built the soil with their bodies that we now sow life from. When you are indigenous to place, your family is the land you walk upon.

I’m thinking about a talk by Ojibwe elder Walt Bresette in his series Speaking for the Generations. He says to settlers, if you are not going to go back to your motherland, then you must give it up. Commit to being here, and dying here where you are now, to not be transient. to say: “I’m no longer an immigrant… this is my home…this is the place i will die if necessary, to defend… and i have a right and a duty to do that… those of you who have come, need to make this part of your place. once you accept this place, as truly in your soul, and your bones; your home– you can’t just defend it with your head, or legislation, or with litigation you need to defend it with your heart and your soul.” 

It reads as instructions with a long view; what it looks like to become centered.

Although Kimmerer does not claim settlers and people of settler decent can become indigenous to place; she does offer a seed of hope for settlers through the term “naturalization.” Her affinity for plants allows her to discuss belonging in a way I resonate alongside with as someone who gets along with the vegetal well.

She introduces plantain, Plantago lanceolata, as the plant to describe the embodiment of naturalization. Plantain is initially a transplant from eurasia, found throughout all the world now, sans arctic spaces. They are sometimes called roadside species, and they find spaces where they can fit; without competing with the spaces around them. In fact, they actually are deeply generous to the beings around them. The plant is medicinal, assisting in drawing out intrusions to our bodies, like slivers and venom. Known to have the herbal actions of: vulnerary (speeds up the healing of wounds), astringent (tightens tissue to stop bleeding and anti inflammatory (reduces swelling) to name a few. Energetically; it is considered cooling and moistening.

“Used as a poultice or salve, they can stop bleeding, seal wounds, soothe damaged tissues and prevent infection with their cooling, moistening, astringent, and anti microbial properties.” (pacific northwest medicinal plants, scott kloos).

I want to know the ways of the plants, the ones that take care of us. Those that heal during disruptions. Often, during a successional disruption, when the land has experienced a significant wound – non native species, or as calyx liddick calls them, catalyst species can blanket in and start the process of repair.

They build the structure of the soil, and they grow quickly, anchoring in the vulnerable soil. Some catalyst plants, like english ivy, can come in and swallow up entire trees. In the instance where many of our forests have not received tending, and have become dense with darkness, english ivy is clearing out to allow sunlight back in on the forest floor.

Catalyst species come in and have an impact on an existing eco system, however the ecosystem will adapt back. Deer will eat english ivy when there is nothing else to munch on, and it provides shelter for reptiles and birds. (Peter Michael).

I have wove with english ivy’s body, making it into a basket. Its long and durable and winding, and there is an abundance of the material. Part of my practice in creating deep home is knowing those that live amongst you, and developing memories, and relationship with them.

As I study these plants, I become more aware of them, not attached.

I spoke with a naturalist and director at the friends of the dunes organization about english ivy, and non native species. She feared that if the narrative shifted to a positive light about invasive species, that people might plant them.

I was surprised to hear this. A part of this process of creating deep home, is also accepting who my neighbors are beyond a single identity box. I want to work on love and curiosity toward catalyst species, but I hadn’t thought to plant them. If they were to be all used up, other plants would find a place in their home, I would be willing to adapt again to the beings that fill their place. In my highest visions; I see a return of native plants.

However, what I am learning throughout these questions of what it means to be rooted in home, is that home keeps molting. Home is maybe as love is, something you keep getting to know, tend, and let change. It is more of a practice of discernment rather than a discrimination on who it is that is worthy of love and belonging. 

It is the act of living and interacting and phenomenally noticing, or giving attention to what the needs of the space are in order to sustain balance.

As I felt into this project, and how I wanted to integrate my studies while at college, I followed the question of cultivating deep home; beginning with my immediate home; my body, and then inseparably, how my body interfaces within the network I am part of.

As I moved through this piece; I brought in ethnoecological principles through the implementation of honorably gathering my materials to make the paper and inks. The body (canvas) that depicts my body and plant relationships making up, educating, and spiritually guiding me – is a physical manifestation of these plant relationships in practice. I gathered the seeds of pampas grass to make the paper, and locally harvested/ was given, or bought from small farms: acorn, oak galls, hawthorn, indigo, marigold, dyers chamomile, alder, and creeping vine berries. I also used watercolor paint, pencil, and colored pencil. A handful of which was given to me, or bought from the local art store.

I researched how to join art and psychology for this process, and found an art therapy modality body mapping developed by the artist Jane Solomon which further directed my painting. Some key parts I have incorporated into this piece from her instructions of bodymapping include painting in symbols of strength, a silhouette of your support system, and journaling narrative therapy prompts related to the struggle which affects the body.

The symbols of strength and connection are represented by the plantain, nettle, english ivy, indigo dyed prayer shawl, quilted clothing, and burn marks from placing lit rosemary and mugwort onto the piece. The red line moving through the whole piece, touching each plant and moving through my body is symbolic of my steady support system. This is actually a rendering from a series of “moon drawings” or long exposure photographs I took of the full moon which created a sort of tail of the moon. As I signaled to the lens to collect some moon, I then soared my body to the album delight by arushi jain. Dance, music, and the moon are all major support systems for my wellbeing. All of this was done with my blood and mugworts charcoal. I decided to modify my initial plan which was to make three body maps, exploring triple the amount of questions, still under the umbrella of cultivating deep home. I also had considered holding the exercise as a group workshop, but decided I’d like to walk through the process myself first before taking on the role of facilitator for other folks therapeutic process.

Going forward, I have plans to meet with an art therapist to consult on how to turn this into a group art therapy workshop. I appreciate that the version I completed falls more in the area of my professional art practice; which holds significant value for me. I think the group art therapy version will focus less on elements and principles of design, and the rigor of aesethic composition, rather, focus more on processing themes of belonging, finding allyship and relationships of strength through plants, and identify an area of support that anchors our sense of belonging. I will educate the group about invasion biology terms, the myths associated with nativism, and also the ethical, and political commitments to consider in regards to indigenous people whos land we are catalyst species on.

I could imagine leading a meditation visualization on what its like to be a plantain plant. And we could get vegetal; deciding for oursleves which terms and plants if any connect with the given person to further self understanding and self in relationship to place.

What would it mean for me to work from a sense of deep home? What would it mean for me to take care of the land and my community as if my life depended on it?

*

nettle

defending the land with our heart and soul
nettle teaches.
i was handed down where the nettle grows, thank you, b
we go and say a blessing before the
open sky on the cliff side and the tide
makes a bed again and again
the nettle looked stunning singing in the sun
like an unselfconscious soprano
bitten by the soft mouth of future butterflies
and hiding bleeding hearts amongst their fangs.
they sway like a rooted snake
and theyre green with enough minerals for a
nettle cake. complimented by lemon ph
frosting its like i’m
eating my own ovulatory citrus doorway.
I’m listening to the nettle
like a sister i’d want to listen to.
and they show up in my dream dressed as the fivehundred foot snake
resting atop of my childhood home, guarding me to keep stinging alive
alive enough to belong, sting and shed across time reminding we are a bicontinental kind, before we knew what that meant nettle (k)new the land across our future and rings a deep kind of home.