What is it that brings us together and keeps us together? In Mutual Aid, the original work from over a hundred years ago by Peter Kropotkin, he responds to the Darwinistic idea of survival of the fittest and that all progress entails fierce competition. He proposes and explains how species across time and location have instead relied on sociability and mutual cooperation to survive, thrive, and continue evolving.
We can see clear links between ideas of competition within and between species for evolution, and capitalistic structures driving the principles of scarcity and disconnection. What if we centered interconnectedness and interbeing? What if we remembered our original connections with each other, with other species, with all atoms around us? That we are indeed recycled atoms, one day a mushroom, one day a tree, one day a horse, one day a primate. Once upon a time, stardust. Can you close your eyes and envision this expanded definition of self for a moment? It sure beats the ‘compete for better or die trying’ theory.
I believe we can learn the definitions of interbeing and interconnectedness from observing and understanding trees and fungi. As above, so below. The world we see before us above land is mirrored by the entangled web of underground and underwater worlds.
We are often marching on this earth without a thought of what lays under our feet. May we learn to tread gently gently gently on this ground, for we certainly need more peace.
The first time I experienced a psilocybin journey, I connected with the teachers in a heart-opening way. They required that I bury myself and join them underground to understand the root of existence. I was asked, gently and lovingly, if I dare to release the self from the tight grip I had on it, and witness what happens when I receive their lessons, when I dissolve entirely into their embrace. It was magical in all senses of that word, life altering. I had to become soil, disintegrating every aspect, churning through the organic matter, buried under the roots of the nearby trees, to understand the power within to love and nourish others, as one being.
We have the opportunity to glimpse worlds different than those that we perceive in reality in front of us, whether through chemical journeys, turning soil with our hands to hold the mycelium, daydreaming in our imaginations, dancing to ecstatic music, experiencing neurologically-explosive intimacies, deep expansive meditation, spiritual awakenings, and a myriad of other ways. It requires courage and we are often struggling to even see reality as it exists in this present moment, let alone opening to a reconnection of the soul with alternate realities.
In the Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben, he explains the research done on the ways in which trees communicate with each other and exchange information for friendship, growth, protection, and defensive reasons. Plants use a variety of substances which act like neurotransmitters to exchange with each other, and insects, animals, and mycelium are involved with capacities to tune into each other’s signals. In a wild forest setting, trees and plants exist in large symbiotic communities. Their sense of time is wildly different from ours, operating on timelines hundreds of years long, which limits our capacity to study them well.
One of the loveliest books I read in a long time was Entangled Life by Merlin Sheldrake. He takes us through a deep dive of what fungi is and how it shapes the planet. ‘A mycelial network is a map of a fungus’s recent history, and is a helpful reminder that all life forms are in fact processes, not things.’ In fact, fungi and mycelium have been so difficult to explain because they’re so difficult to understand. They simply exist in a different way and have a different inherent wisdom. As do most species if we can be generous enough. Our frameworks for understanding the world, especially from a heteronormative perspective, sever our ability to comprehend non-binary entities like fungi and mycelium, which have been in existence for around two billion years at least.
To truly thrive, trees have formed the ultimate connection: with fungi. Mycelium, the underground living web which connects all and produces the fungus spores above ground, are almost other-worldly in their uniqueness on this planet. They form partnerships with trees and plants by exchanging carbon, nutrients, and other food which they need, for benefits for the tree. As Wohlleben explains, they are able to filter out pollutants for the tree as well as ward off harmful intruders in the form of other species or even other harmful fungi. Of course, not all fungi and trees connect positively underground. Some are on the attack and others on the defense, and always there are partnerships and cooperation at the same time. In essence, they are helping churn through whatever is already on its way out of the system and they are one of the main tunnels through which matter is prepared to become other matter. Perhaps they can be seen as a form of death doula, helping carbon transition from one matter to another. And that’s just one partnership. As Wohlleben reminds, ‘there are more life forms in a handful of forest soil than there are people on the planet.’
Peter Singer, well known in the animal liberation movement, re-published his book of essays on ethics and includes a chapter called Plant Liberation? This chapter looks at the arguments around whether plants should also be liberated from the food/consumption cycle, as Singer has often made the argument that nonhuman animals should be. It is a common anti-vegan trope that folks use to antagonize others, that plants are also killed and should also be saved by eating animal meat instead. So are plants sentient? The way Wohlleben argues for the sentience of trees could be projected on plants in general. If trees can feel and communicate and protect, then do they also feel pain? We know that trees suffer in some ways in how they react to less than ideal settings. Western science tells us that they do not have a nervous system the way that animals and insects do, and therefore measuring their capacity to feel pain is indeed a difficult task for humans, precisely because the baseline indicators are not known to us. However, “they have substances like dopamine and serotonin, which function as neurotransmitters in animals.” And so, rather than wondering whether there is sentience, we would do well to consider that perhaps there is a type of sentience we are unaware of out there. While he gets deeper into the ethics of consuming plants rather than animals, Singer advises that “it is a reason for thinking about plants a little differently, keeping in mind the possibility that more may be going on than we are aware of, and acting accordingly by minimizing the harm we do to them, when the costs of changing our behaviour are not significant.”
Is sentience necessary for us to learn from one another and to reconnect with our oneness as part of the natural world?
By believing that the human species is special, we have tried to elevate ourselves above others, claiming that sentience and superior intelligence set us apart. Grasping onto the differences between the elements, we invented systems to justify the exploitation and oppression of others, human and non-human animals and species alike. The problem with developing these hierarchies is that they are almost endless in their potential expansion. If we are separate from the trees, then we are also better than the other primates, and if so, then maybe some primates are better than others, and perhaps some homo sapiens are more superior. Cases in point are white supremacy, the patriarchy, religious leadership, and eugenics, just to name a few. Where does it end?
What is it that is keeping us disconnected? And in what ways? It always goes back to the systems we’ve accepted in the functioning of the current world, sadly. The most important disconnections according to eastern philosophies are our disconnection from each other, our disconnection from the natural world, and our disconnection from the oneness that unites us all. Modern western psychology has also brought up the disconnection we have from ourselves. And perhaps it is most likely that the last is a result of the first three. These disconnections are powerful, emphasizing individualism, competition, and isolation, presenting them as the normative state of affairs. Whereas if we are paying attention we will see that these disconnections serve only capitalistic and colonialist ideas, making us normalize working hard to make money for the big men, keeping us running after survival instead of thriving in the abundance of the world which exists, keeping us convinced that we must compete with each other and possess others. The disconnection from nature has enabled a mass exploitation of the natural world, as a resource to be exploited for our so-called advancements, creating a speciest hierarchy, infiltrating within the human species to enable the exploitation of some people over others.
When we see the multi-dimensionality of oppressive systems, we realize that they exist to keep us isolated from each other, from our place as natural beings within nature, and from realizing the bigger spiritual oneness that unites all beings.
Instead of differentiating ourselves, trying to stand apart and above, what if we took our place again within the sphere of living beings, interbeing and learning through symbiosis and biomimicry? We can learn from the trees above the soil and the fungus systems below ground, taking inspiration and learning that wisdom comes in different varieties. If we are looking to build radically different systems to live in, we can begin by centering expansive abundance and interconnectedness, and stepping away from the isolated and disconnecting scarcity of the current systems.
That's an interesting perspective, albeit a little abstract for me to follow very well.
What exactly is "capitalistic structures driving the principles of scarcity and disconnection."? Are you suggesting that people nicknamed Scarcity and Disconnection are ethical capitalist building developers?
This has made me reflect deeply on something I often think about—the interconnectedness of all living beings. I’m genuinely moved by how you describe the symbiosis between trees and fungi as a model for our own human relationships. Blending science and personal experiences in this way to highlight the importance of cooperation and connection over competition is truly inspiring—such a powerful reminder of how we can learn from nature to enrich our own lives 😍