Stinging Nettle Teachings

There is a place near here, next to a meadow and gardens, along a brook, across from a school, next to a high rise apartment building. This place has two strong beech trees, and a beautiful flowering I don't know what kind of tree, Elder trees, planties- Stinging nettle, Butterbur, Blackberry, Meadow Geranium, Cinquefoil, Giersch, wild garlic, and others I have not yet met on a first name basis. I have been going there every few days to visit, ti sit by the brook, to talk with the planties, especially one of them who is  becoming a particular friend.

Today, when I arrived, I saw that a person had been all through there ripping up the nettle for their garden (nettle makes an amazing green manure, it is as good for the garden as it is for us). The whole right side between the path and the brook was ravaged, stalks of nettle stuck nakedly up into the air, frayed at the ends from being ripped rather than cut or snapped. From the looks of it, it happened either early this morning or yesterday afternoon.  I was shocked, like the earth and plants there as well, and I started to sing and pray and put my hands on the earth to listen to what had happened and how the plant community there was feeling. And I felt an overall numbness of shock, which at first I thought was my inability to tune in because of my upset, but as my own thoughts settled, there seemed to be the familiar life energy pulse and then a feeling of cotton batting over the whole area. And then, I asked the tree next to me to tell me. I had some overall images that corroborated my feeling for how the events had "played out" and then I heard very clearly, "they will grow again".   Not as a "oh get over yourself girl" response, rather the regenerative, unstoppable, spring coming again power of the earth roaring her truth. There was sadness too in how it had happened, but there was a clear imperative to GROW, that even though I could only see the destruction, was already at work. I was a bit stunned. In my naivete and human-centric thinking, I expected from the tree a whole gamut of human emotions of outrage and anger and sadness to grief. But then again, this is not a new behavior of the human species to thoughtlessly rip out what we want from the earth and leave, whether we are thinking we are doing something good, or not (like feeding a garden that will feed us, like harvesting plants to sell or to make medicine from or to eat).

I walked away from there a bit stunned, but also grateful, as always, to have heard a small glimpse of what the plant world is humming about. And as I walked towards home, I came upon a huge stand of nettle that was larger and healthier looking than the one I had just left, and I thought, oh, I can harvest nettle here. (One of the things I had wanted to do at my place, like times before, was to fill a bag full of nettle tops for lunch tomorrow.) And I asked if I could harvest there, and heard no strong answer either way, but a general openness, and I started to harvest. And to sing the song I usually sing to the planties when I harvest- Returning, returning, returning, to the mother of us all- very mindfully harvesting stinging nettle with my bare hands, which I should say, is not usually a problem, I know how to hold the leaves without getting stung. However, this time, I got a huge sting on my middle finger, when I came in contact with the plant. I can still feel it. And I kept harvesting. And moved through the stand of nettle to another place to get fresh tips and without taking all of the tips from one area, like I learned from my grandmother.

As I looked around to see where I would go next, it struck me like a bolt of lightening in the heart- I'm not doing anything different than the man who ripped the nettle out at my place. Plants were knocked down as I had made my way through the stand, big gaps in foliage were left behind. From the path later on, I would see no trace of having been there, a trick of perspective, but the fact was, I was exactly the same kind of perpetrator, only I was taking the plants to feed my belly directly rather than my garden. I heard suddenly the voice of Paul Bergner, who I had listened to in an interview on herbmentor.com, saying," You cannot take a plant from its home, and ask the spirit of that being to move somewhere else without explaining to the plant and to the creator why you need it and how much you want to take". And then you have to receive a yes. I had asked, but not explained, I had treated the plant as my servant, expecting it to give itself to me for my health without the dignity of explaining what I wanted to do and asking for permission. When I had asked,  I had taken general non-disagreement as perfunctory permission. But the nettle people had no idea what they were supposed to agree or not agree to, so of course there was no clear response! All of these thoughts went rapid fire through my consciousness and I began to cry and to speak to the nettle people.

I apologized, and asked for their pardon, for doing exactly what I had been so outraged about a moment before. I thanked them for the lesson, for stinging me with the truth, and for helping me to wake up. I shared my appreciation for them and I began to elucidate my request, to explain why I wanted to take a part of these beings from their home, attached to the rest of the plant, with me. And I got to the words, "and I want to bring you with me because....." and there was nothing more there to say. I could not say why I wanted to bring nettle with me other than, "because I want to eat you", which seemed rather paltry and somehow obvious and needed no stating. Why did I really want to bring nettle home with me and eat her into my belly? To bring wildness, to bring wakefulness, to heal my liver and kidneys and my skin problem. To learn about nettle from nettle and to learn what it is to have my food be my medicine and my medicine, my food. To eat all of these things into my belly along with my commitment not to make this mistake again. And to not just go randomly harvesting something- through joy and excitement and appreciation and love, for sure- but without explaining to the plant and the creator why I wanted to take this plant away from where she was and what I would do with her. And to wait until I had received an unequivocal yes, and only then would I harvest the amount I was given permission to harvest.

As I made my way back to the path, still weepy and sensitive, I felt the whole circle of the process come together. And as I continued along the path a little ways, I saw that there was another stand of nettle, bigger and healthier looking, right along the path! And I heard the words, "let us come to you, do not take what you have to go and get, but let us come to you". And I thought, oh no, I can't harvest more nettle after all of that. I stood there, on the path not knowing what to do. And I felt that the words I heard were truly an acceptance of my apology and intention and explanation and an invitation to harvest a little more. So I did, but only from those plants along the path that were facing in my direction and close enough to reach. The others I left there, and I thanked the nettle people for their offering.

Crossing the brook and turning away from her around the corner, I saw the nettle plants on the left hand side of the path had been mown down with a hand scythe and had been left there. And of course, this is the worst that can happen, cutting down a plant and leaving it there for no reason, without any relationship or use. The lesson was complete and I walked home to eat, to read, and to take a nap. Tomorrow, when I eat nettle lasagne, I will eat the Beauty, the viriditas, the vital force, the chi of the nettle people into my belly, becoming one with my blood, liver, kidneys, lymph, and hormones, and the minerals becoming a part of every cell in my body.

Thank you, nettle people, for the teaching. (And to soul flower farm for the photo)