His small legs flailed as he worked his way downward and he was gone a very long time. He volunteered to go while the others looked on doubtfully. Soon only little Muskrat was left, the weakest diver of all. They returned gasping for air with their heads ringing. One by one, the other animals offered to help-Otter, Beaver, Sturgeon-but the depth, the darkness, and the pressures were too great for even the strongest of swimmers. Loon dove first, but the distance was too far and after a long while he surfaced with nothing to show for his efforts. The deep divers among them had heard of mud at the bottom of the water and agreed to go find some. The others understood that she needed land for her home and discussed how they might serve her need. Gratefully, she stepped from the goose wings onto the dome of his shell. A great turtle floated in their midst and offered his back for her to rest upon. Resting on their wings, she saw them all gather: loons, otters, swans, beavers, fish of all kinds. The geese could not hold the woman above the water for much longer, so they called a council to decide what to do. Far from the only home she’d ever known, she caught her breath at the warm embrace of soft feathers as they gently carried her downward. She felt the beat of their wings as they flew beneath to break her fall. The geese nodded at one another and rose together from the water in a wave of goose music. As it grew closer, they could see that it was a woman, arms outstretched, long black hair billowing behind as she spiraled toward them. They saw there a small object, a mere dust mote in the beam. But in that emptiness there were many eyes gazing up at the sudden shaft of light. Hurtling downward, she saw only dark water below. In fear, or maybe hope, she clutched a bundle tightly in her hand. * A column of light streamed from a hole in the Skyworld, marking her path where only darkness had been before. She fell like a maple seed, pirouetting on an autumn breeze. The storytellers begin by calling upon those who came before who passed the stories down to us, for we are only messengers. In winter, when the green earth lies resting beneath a blanket of snow, this is the time for storytelling. Its favored habitat is sunny, well-watered meadows. Thus the plant is passed from hand to earth to hand across years and generations. Sweetgrass is best planted not by seed, but by putting roots directly in the ground. She shares some traditional Native American practices but cautions us to all find our own ceremonies that upwell from our own situations.The title honors a plant which embodies the different approaches to knowledge which she takes as a scientist and a Potawatomi. She stimulates us to question our cultural bias of distancing ourselves from the natural world and suggests that acting with reciprocity, sharing our gifts in exchange for the gifts nature gives us, will enhance the survival of all species (including humans).A few of her chapters get a bit more preachy, on issues that are currently overwhelming our environment, but on the whole this book speaks on a family level: Robin writes of cleaning up a pond in her attempt to be a good mother and provide a swimming area for her daughters she writes of gardening, of listening to grade schoolers say a Thanksgiving in their native language, of boiling maple sap, of teaching college students to consider how they would feel if the earth loved them back. My favorite plant author, Robin writes warmly and personally about her relationship with plants and the world around her. For only when we can hear the languages of other beings will we be capable of understanding the generosity of the earth, and learn to give our own gifts in return. In reflections that range from the creation of Turtle Island to the forces that threaten its flourishing today, she circles toward a central argument: that the awakening of ecological consciousness requires the acknowledgment and celebration of our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. In Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer brings these two lenses of knowledge together to take us on “a journey that is every bit as mythic as it is scientific, as sacred as it is historical, as clever as it is wise” (Elizabeth Gilbert).ĭrawing on her life as an indigenous scientist, and as a woman, Kimmerer shows how other living beings-asters and goldenrod, strawberries and squash, salamanders, algae, and sweetgrass-offer us gifts and lessons, even if we've forgotten how to hear their voices. As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, she embraces the notion that plants and animals are our oldest teachers. As a botanist, Robin Wall Kimmerer has been trained to ask questions of nature with the tools of science.
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