My mother once asked me if in order to know a plant did it help to know its name? I answered with a definite--yes. Of course. The name often says so much about the plant, it’s flower color, shape or the state in which is it commonly found. How could you walk through a garden without knowing what you were looking at? I later realized that I had not always thought like that and gradually saw that my relationships to plants were similar to those I have with humans. One that begins with a name and with time becomes so much more.
Initially, a new relationship begins with introductions, learning each other’s name and getting to know one another in small ways. With time, it evolves and develops into a friendship of deep trust and love. There may be intermittent periods of warming up and cooling off but ultimately the gifts of both are acknowledged and relied upon through thick and thin. As with people, certain plants that are there for me, to teach me and guide me in how I proceed with my life, my work and my relationship with the world, regardless of whether I know their name or not.

During childhood, my early introductions were made with plants when playing in the woods, having oak pollen battles with neighborhood friends and taking running leaps into the neighbor’s shrubbery. With time, a slow warming developed as I was given opportunities to touch the earth through camping, farm visits, and art projects. In those early days, I think I was aware of the spirit of plants and could feel comfort in their presence, but mainly they provided a background for play and adventure. After high school, a friend hesitated moving a gardenia shrub because it might go into shock and drop all of its flower buds. It was then I began to understand the sensitivity of plants and their vulnerability to human action. This idea had never occurred to me before, but it captured my mind.

When I went to college, I was taught about the cultivation of many types of plants. I learned Latin names of plants and how to identify them by leaves and by twigs, the soils and site conditions they preferred, how to grow them quickly from seed or cutting into a marketable size, and even how to force them into flower during a time when they did not normally flower. I even learned that the gaping hole in the neighbor’s shrubbery was directly related to my many running leaps! Ultimately, I gained the title of horticulturist and began to earn a living with my knowledge. Although I was completely submerged and surrounded by all things horticulture, an invisible distance and a sense of separation developed between me and the plant world. Judgment entered in, and suddenly there were good and bad plants based on their performance, their appearance, and other subjective qualities. These qualities, known as “standards”, either make or break a plant’s popularity and ultimately its availability to many gardeners.

Completely unaware, I lived like this for many years. And it wasn’t until I wanted to get my hands dirty again and change jobs that I realized how caught up I had become. I felt a deep yearning inside to play in the woods and touch plants in a new way. I knew there were things text book learning did not teach me and the only way for me to reconnect with plants would be to begin new relationships with them, to unlearn prejudices and to see these old friends in a new light.

Recently I was taught, in my Plant Spirit Medicine class, how to renew my friendships with plants in what is called a plant study. The plant study is a simple and beautiful way for anyone to begin a relationship with a plant, either in the wild or in your garden. You begin by walking outdoors with the simple intention to meet a plant. One will soon call to you. Plants that are in flower are often the most communicative, and will call by catching your eye or your interest. When you come to it, introduce yourself by saying your name. Tell it you are interested in sitting with it and getting to know it. Offer it some tobacco in gratitude. Find a comfortable position where you can spend at least 30 minutes inspecting the flowers, the leaves, the plant’s surroundings and neighboring plants growing nearby. Listen and watch for emotions or thoughts that arise within you. Take note of birds, insects, or other living things. Ask permission and gently take a piece of the plant and taste it. Having some knowledge of poisonous plants is safest, so look the plant up in a guidebook to find this information; if in doubt, do not taste it. On a sketch pad, draw the plant and make note of the things you take in through your five senses. Be open and do not discount anything. Lying on the ground and looking at the world from the perspective of the plant and seeing what the plant sees will deepen your understanding. When you feel you have made a new acquaintance, thank the plant for allowing you to be with it and state your interest in future conversations.

It will be in these notes and experiences that you will find a closeness with these new friends. I have learned this and am grateful for it. As I go forward with a deeper sense of who I am and my role in horticulture, my relationship with plants now goes far deeper beyond the name, beyond what I could have ever imagined. I look forward to all the new faces and the many visits ahead. I wish the same joy in friendship for you as well.

Alison Arnold is an ornamental horticulturalist in the Asheville, NC area and will become a Plant Spirit Medicine practitioner in July. For more information about getting in touch with our plant friends, contact her at a1arnold@bellsouth.net. You can also read Plant Spirit Medicine by Eliot Cowan.

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