Foraged Nature Art
Spiritual Meanings of PNW Plants and Trees
Plant Allies for Grief, Trauma and Healing
Ginkgo trees survived the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and began growing again within days. They can live one thousand years and are considered to be living fossils, bc they have remained genetically unchanged for 200 million years.
Stingray symbolizes restraint over impulsiveness and reminds us to take a step back and weigh our decisions carefully. But, if you misstep, you can survive the minefield, your core unchanged.
Red Alder is an extremely strong tree. Their roots are so strong that when they hit rock, they don’t go around the rock, they don’t push the rock out of the way, they don’t avoid the rock, they EAT the rock. Quickly. They break down the rock, pull out the minerals, ingest it, digest it, and disperse the nutrients throughout the forest to other trees and plants through the mycelial network. Strong masculine energy to face challenges head on, aggressively break it down into manageable pieces and use it to nourish rather than block. Break through.
Redwood trees can live for 2000 years. They can survive fire that other trees cannot. Safety, longevity, wellness, and wisdom. At the end of summer, they shed their oldest leaves closest to their trunk, called exchange of foliage. Exchange the old now, for new later, because apparently you can't have both. A favorable trade.
There is a spider web hiding behind these leaves. I knocked it down three times and put the fourth one on this canvas. Spider knows by instinct how to keep building, unbothered. A web woven in darkness that no one can see, but I know it's there. And the moon knows it's there. The moon saw it all. A sometimes invisible witness. To the fire of it all. Tree feathers floating down. An offering to the next season.
This plant is called Pathfinder, named for its help in finding your way back. When you step, the silver, furry underside turns over to show you what path you took to guide you back. Arrows pointing. Trees aligning. Spears throwing. Resembling hearts. Once I heard the trees speak, I was hiking in a forest, the trees said, we are your family. They pointed me in the right direction. The center, my center. Don't go back, look back, look how far you've come, you found your path.
Western Hemlock tree branches have flat needles with two sides to them. Growing green on top, hiding silver underneath, two sides to a coin. When all her needles die and fall off, you can see the paths that held their attachments. Sweet little connections. Delicate. Almost connections. Parallel paths, crossovers, diverging, curving away, reaching towards. Nature is constantly changing, growing this way and that way, dying, birthing. Don't be afraid of shedding attachments. Look how pretty the remaining map is.
In a fire, the Ponderosa Pine tree bark chars and the resin boils inside the tree until it seeps out and weeps. Blood boils and then there's gold. Turned to turpentine. Grow away, seething heat, fragrance to dangerous. Seal the leaks. Bear blood and gather gold.
“I want to hear her heart beating in the quiet movements of the roots of the plants as they stretch and grab and stop my ears with her fertile dirt, finally gaining peace from the constant infernal racket of thoughts no longer wanted.” -Rumi
Roots grow in unseen places. They need to be unseen to grow. Undisturbed. Settled. A hidden place free of questions or answers. Where are you going? Is that a U turn? Go that way. Becoming strands of rich brown hair. The warmest cords of care. Conduits of convergence. Live electrical wires.
Red Huckleberry bushes like to grow on dead stumps, logs that nurse new growth, in dark forests. You can often see their roots, apparently unbothered by being exposed for all to see. Makes no sense. Growing in inhospitable conditions. Bearing fruit. Subjected to ever changing weather, burned in the sun, dried out from heat, plucked by foragers wanting something beautiful. Hardy. Tough. Resilient. Determined. Why not give them quiet, gentle, protective soil. Consistent conditions. Go to that hidden place.
No plants were harmed in the gathering of these roots; they were found previously dismembered.
Brittle and bright. Opposite offset. Ground and glow. Muddy water, endless life. Cottonwood trees live at the water’s edge. They love water, emotion. But when a storm comes, their limbs break apart easily, which provides medicine on the ground, buds full of soothing, sweet smelling, gold resin, along with a carpet of deep brown, heart shaped, spear shaped, decomposing leaves throughout the dead of winter. Medicine mixed with mess in the dark season. Some people are allergic to the resin and break out in hives.
Lichen can dry out for years, still be alive and rehydrate. Ooo and aww at the saturated color. Especially attached to the contrast of a dark brown sturdy tree. Wolf lichen got its name bc some say it is toxic to animals and was used to poison wolves when hunting. Nature heals, nature sustains, nature kills. Humans are nature, too. How easy to see the beauty, there is toxic, too, always two, as opposite as leather and lime.
Holding up a pipe dream. Can you have it all? One part. Two parts. Just part. Which part. Parcel it out. Divide into more sellable parts. Going elsewhere. Passing by.
Bittersweet Nightshade. Comfort and soothing after bittersweet endings and fidelity after betrayal. They grow and bloom in the night. Stems, flowers, berries plucked, lightning strikes. Some say it's medicine, some say it will get you high, some say it will kill you. Do you want to take that risk?
Wildflowers. Pearls Everlasting, a necklace broken and spilled on the floor, find the pearl you love. Purple edible Fireweed flowers filling fields after fire, tall, eye level, irresistible. Plump. Rose. Hips. Sweetened by a snap of frost. Delicious, but not for you. Just out of reach. On a separate trajectory.
Red Elderberry sticks. They say if you sit under a Red Elderberry bush, the hollow stems funnel down wisdom to you from your elders in the sky. What would your elder self say? What does your older, future self have to say? The answer just out of reach.
Shatter your mask, it's pretty under there. In case of emergency, break glass, it's thinner than it looks. The shards won't cut you. They are splintered parts of yourself. They strike a chord and bring you to your center. They free you.
The Madrone tree has blood red paper-thin bark that peels away and curls up into brittle pieces to reveal a rich butterscotch brown trunk. Red and tan, like a lion. Red and orange like fire. An old brick building, housing warm golden light. Madrone symbolizes strength, safety, and protection. Safe for the lightning to strike to shatter the shell to get in and get out.
The Eight of Wands in tarot are about lightning-fast movement towards a target. A lot happening, with fire energy. There is a point to the urgency. Lazer focus. Whatever it is you want, you must do it now. Make the most of forward momentum. Strike while the iron is hot.
The eighth card in tarot is Strength, depicted as a lion. A triumphant conclusion to a life problem. The card shows a woman stroking a lion's forehead and jaw. He could kill her, but he won't. Strength to separate self-interest and self-control. Strength and safety to go to the broken places and pour your love all over them.
Fourteen Turkey Tail mushrooms, which are anti-cancer. Mushrooms can be medicine or poison. Plants can be medicine or poison. People can be medicine or poison. Medicine and poison. Balance you and shatter you.
The 14th card in tarot is Temperance and appears right after the Death card. Take the parts apart, un-blend. Find the middle path between extremes. Restraint, composure, temper your actions, self-control, steady, moderation, calm. Soft like moss. Peace between two paths. Parallel process. Perfect puzzle piece. Distance, space, separation, but still connected.
Alder trees are very strong. Their roots eat rock. They break down rock, extract its minerals, ingest it, digest it, and disperse its nutrients to other trees and plants in the forest through the underground mycelial network. And they do it fast. Redisperse energy. Alder trees are special, because they have both male and female catkins and cones, balancing feminine and masculine energy. Strength to breakdown. Strength to balance.
There is a Golden Thread, a theme as valuable as gold, that is woven into the story of our lives. It is a conduit of energy that softly and subtly connects people, places, time, experiences, and dimensions. It holds a series of parts together, significantly related events, purposeful repetition, synchronicities.
This is Old Man Usnea, a lichen that hangs from trees like ornaments and cleans forest air and human lungs, where grief is held. Old, because he grows very slowly, 1 cm every three years, connecting season after season, decade after decade, storm after storm, wisdom and wounds from each chapter. He has seen a lot, so he understands. In his old man wisdom, having survived many disasters before, he softly reminds you that your sorrow is a chapter in the long life of your forest. Follow the thread through each meaning, dimension, loss, love, and person as valuable as gold.
Every October there is a two week window in the alpine where hikers and backpackers flock in masses for Larch March Madness. The larch tree is a deciduous pine tree. Their needles change from green to lime to gold. You have to go high in elevation to see them. The mountain peaks and slopes look like they are glowing with brilliant golden flames. The nubs where the needles grow from look like a tiny candle flame. Beautiful white mountain goats scrape their soft fluffy fur on the branches. You hike in the clouds. The wind knocks the needles down quickly and the trail becomes a yellow brick road. It truly is magical.
The larch is a magical tree for divination and protection against evil spirits. They help you find the knowledge you need for your future, even if it's something you would rather not know. They protect you in your pursuit of your dreams from diversions that would harm you. Living in the alpine, the larch symbolizes relentless hard work under difficult conditions. Sweat, blood and tears to reach them, with Mountain Goat at your side, gracefully doing the impossible. You have to work for it. Persevere through valuable lessons. Stay the course. Protect your flame.
In the dead of winter after a windstorm, the Cottonwood tree, or Black Poplar tree, drops their branches that look like curling fingers, swollen joints, claws, and bones. The buds are already forming, before springtime even thinks about waking up. Plants will often look like the organ they help. Cottonwood helps inflamed joints in arthritic hands.
A sticky, rich, dark, golden resin oozes from the buds, which is a pain reliever from salicin, the active ingredient in aspirin, and an anti-inflammatory for rheumatoid arthritis, soothing hands that have clawed their way through the cold. It calls us to comfort connections that have become inflamed and painful. Forgive and ask for forgiveness. Reduce the tension between one another with sweetness.
The golden resin smells sweet like honey and instantly invokes images of sunny summer days, warm memories, oasis, respite, shining gold moments, glimmers of what will come, lounging on warm rocks by a river, where Cottonwood grows, when the buds turn to soft flecks of cotton floating through the air without a care in the world. A taste of sweet golden sunshine that launches you out of winter and softly warms you to the bone.
Whirling swirling in the deep dark sea. Trauma is like a whirlpool. You are floating along with the current then get swept up in an emotional side quest. Let it make you dizzy till it spits you back out into flow again. There are treasures in whirlpools. Treasures you can't find anywhere else. Treasures that take a long time to get to. Treasures that are people.
Backpacking on the coast is magical. More than a dozen bald eagles flying all over the place. No humans. A red-tailed hawk and a black bear. Loudest, biggest, strongest waves and love I ever felt.
Light hearted. Winter thorns for protection, spring pink flowers for love, summer green leaves, autumn glowing jewels of garnet red berries. Hawthorn is heart medicine and grief medicine. The berries heal a broken heart, physically and emotionally and comfort grief. Hawthorn works slowly and gently, because matters of the heart are tender.
Rumi says, “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” Hawthorn relaxes and softens the heart muscle itself and the muscles in between the ribs to open the chest and make room for the heart to beat with ease. Soften to receive love. Room to receive love. Remove barriers to love. Make space for love.
