How to Become A Plant, Part 1
Grace met by an unreceptive soul is as useless as light encountered by an uprooted plant.
At the Intentional Table, we speak about the elements often, using them both literally and allegorically to find a way to understand the dynamic part of a life that we live in real time. I wonder if you were ever told, ‘be a tree’ in school when they were teaching the idea of acting. What would this tree be ‘thinking’, doing or not doing, etc.? What would life look like, if not for the fact that we are not plants, if we were? What are the common spaces that we inhabit? Let’s take a look!
The plant is coaxed up and out of the soil by the Sun, and its unfolding seems so effortless. But, we human beings do not experience any automatic spiritual development. This is VERY important to me, thanks for asking…. as I am on a path of my own spiritual development now. Since my cancer survival in 2023, I have changed in many ways. Some physical, ( I lost 45 pounds, and I smell different. I know that sounds odd, but I used to NEVER smell at all. No sweat, etc. and now I do. The cancer rearranged my DNA, for real), some mental, (let’s call it a need for deep quiet), and some spiritual, meaning that I have found that I need a practice for my interaction with spirit that includes logic and compassion. I wish that you could really know how strange this feels, and that I actually feel like a whole different person. I cannot report with a giant smile that this has been great. Uh… no. It’s struggle. Perhaps good struggle, and may lead to a better understanding, but nearly hard enough to make me want to quit life at times. Maybe that is hard to read? Sorry if that triggers anything in you that you may not want to hear. The result though, is that it’s building a better me. That is my fervent desire. I want to be the tree that I wrote about in my poem called “Heartwood.” I will include that at the end of this post.
What a plant does on one level, we must express on another but the key ingredient is our own effort. We must strive and, on a soul level, become like the plant in our very willpower itself. Grace met by an unreceptive soul is as useless as light encountered by an uprooted plant. If a plant cannot receive the light, the same light scorches it. Likewise, the soul that does not by its own free activity photosynthesize grace, is blistered by its own inactivity. This means we must will to do what is not our inborn instinct, but rather, of our own volition, fixing our attention on our spiritual direction until this willful striving becomes second nature to us. We must come to think our willing and will our thinking. That one line merits much contemplation. Conversely, guess what? You do not have to, nor should do any of this, unless it suits you. Here we are making a compare and contrast with plants, and the way they are, take what you need and wish from this whole series.
As St. Paul writes, “We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming.” On the contrary, our thoughts must become focused and volitional – attentive only to that which we willfully choose. This is what is elsewhere called “single-pointed” focus in meditative practice, but something carried throughout our daily waking life. Our willed actions, by contrast, must conform to spiritual concepts and living ideals. Such a person begins to live from the dynamics of the spiritual world rather than bodily prejudices. Well, that is the idea anyway, and a lofty goal. I love that the plant has no real choice in the matter, it’s just the way it is.
1 of 4: Root
As individuals, the unqualified human “I” is the center of our being. It is from this dark ineffable center that we each emerge. Of course, there are many aspects of this, and as mentor of mine said, what we are referring to is “that which I refer to when I say I, or me.” This infers that there is what I call an observer, or something kind-of like that. It’s nodded to by thinking about that your body, or your soma is something unique and apart from ‘you.’ This is a bit of a head trip to some, but let’s see if this holds out.
The concept of the body being independent of the self suggests that our physical form operates as an entity distinct from our sense of identity or consciousness. While the body functions autonomously—breathing, circulating blood, and healing wounds without our direct control—the self, or the conscious mind, often perceives itself as separate from these processes. Can you control your blood with your thoughts, nope, me either (unless you are a total Yogi, etc). Your thoughts, emotions and reactions are often carried out either by your brain/mind combo without your consent and/or even knowledge. This was a real head turner for me, and I began to realize that there may be ‘somebody else’ in here, per se, that is actually calling the shots. Well, if so, I wanted to meet them, and if I could not, then at least exert some conversation to get to know ‘myself’ better. I wanted to improve my self relatability. As my mentor Sue Sellars said, “Who is is that looks out through these eyes?" Leonardo da Vinci asked much the same thing.
Dr. David Eagleman, a renowned neuroscientist, emphasizes that much of what the brain does occurs without our conscious awareness or consent. He describes the brain as a complex system where unconscious processes handle the majority of tasks necessary for survival and daily functioning. These include regulating body temperature, releasing hormones, managing balance, and processing sensory input—all without involving the conscious mind. He asserts that even decisions we think are deliberate often emerge from neural activity that begins before we’re aware of it. This perspective suggests that the conscious self is more like a passenger in the brain’s operations than a driver, illustrating how much of our experience is shaped by hidden neurological mechanisms operating beneath the surface of awareness. This is part of that persistent idea of your worldview, which creates your perceptions of the world, which equates with all the ways you act and are.
So, this perspective frames the body as a vessel or tool through which the self interacts with the world, but not as the entirety of who we are. It implies that our identity transcends the physical, rooted instead in thoughts, emotions, and the intangible essence of awareness that exists independent of the body’s automatic functions. Wow, do I love that idea. Anything that transcends my identity, as mentioned before, has my attention. I think I hear it’s footsteps in the hallway from time to time, but then I say… nahhh…. 😎
As infants, we begin as “all sense organ” and absorb everything and copy everything we experience. The biological process is how we become a member of our species and society, but to become free individuals, the cultural “umbilical cord” must at a certain point be cut. The fullness of the individual is born out of the soil of one’s culture and reaches the fullness of freedom by transcending the very conditions in which the individual grows. I didn’t make the rules, but we all follow them. This process is called ‘individuation’ in psychology terms, and I love that in that my poet’s mind goes to think of us all as facets of the same large diamond. Interconnected and interdependent, yet individuated.
An American will still speak English, and a German will still speak German, but at the summit of free individuality, minds meet in being able to think living concepts no longer constrained to mere cultural preconceptions. This summit is more of a plateau where we can meet. It does not mean total enlightenment, but rather an ever-greater possibility of the growth of freedom. We do not ever possess absolute freedom, but we can always draw closer to it and continue to shed misinterpretations. As long as we are embodied beings, we cannot shed all preconceptions. As such, we each remain perpetual human becomings. If a plant is unable to overcome inherited geological conditions, it simply fails to be its fullest self. Just like you and I, friend.
As a child develops from the head first, the root of the plant emerges first as a pip from the seed. The soul, too, is “rooted” in the physical world as long as its feelings of value are entirely drawn from the world of sensuality and how externalities stimulate emotions. When our feelings of value are not drawn from the surfaces of things (“maya”) and how they enchant our senses, but rather from the unifying spiritual ideas that provide their holistic meaning, then appearances are redeemed and our source of meaning descends from the spiritual world. I guess it’s where you direct your attention, perhaps, what do you think?
As Rudolf Steiner said, “We find the strongest life force in the root nature, and there is a gradual process of devitalization from below upward.” This is a paradoxical statement because if you look at a root, it is the densest and woodiest part of a plant. “The root is rich in salts, the flower in light. People knew much more of this in the past. This is why they called the principle to be found in the flower ‘phosphorus’.”4 What this means is that the most voracious hunger is in the root, actively assimilating water, salts, and humus and in that activity hardening. In the soil is the greatest life potential and the plant “dies” into its form through its growth. Growth itself is a kind of kinetic energy while the potential accumulated in the soil is potential but active energy.
Steven Jenkinson reflects on the deep paradox of parenting, where bearing children is an act of love entwined with the inevitable knowledge of their mortality. He views this awareness not as a deterrent but as a profound responsibility, urging parents to teach their children how to live meaningfully in the face of life's impermanence. For Jenkinson, this is an essential part of the human condition—an invitation to embrace the beauty and fragility of existence. To parent well, he suggests, is to prepare children not just to live but also to face their eventual deaths with courage and grace. You can read more about this from him, in his amazing book: Die Wise - A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul.
How is a plant different from a child? What would it be like for you, if you could access this idea when you decide to care for plants, as a part of your nurturing of self and other? Yeah, wow.
In the entire process of growth, there is a dying into crystalline form. When a plant reaches its culmination, it produces a new individuality – the seed. As Alan Chadwick says, “the seed is utmost idée and least metamorphosis.” As a pure idea, the seed is pure potential. As the plant matures, this potential is used up and the plant becomes actual. To become young again, pure potential must emerge out of our crystalline actuality. This follows physics precisely and I have taught many times on the cascade from potentiality, through to probability and on to reality. Again, it’s the Law with a capital ‘L’. Works every time.
Each time you save a seed in the garden, the seed adapts and evolves. Likewise, when our physical bodies die – assuming we have blossomed spiritually and produced a new I-seed – our individuality also has evolved. All of human life is organized like a plant towards the production of a renewed I-seed.
Clarissa Pinkola Estés describes the life-death-life cycle as a natural and recurring rhythm inherent to all aspects of existence, from relationships to personal growth. She emphasizes that death is not an end but a vital transformation, clearing the way for new life to emerge. This cycle, central to her teachings on the Wild Woman archetype, reflects the necessity of embracing endings as a sacred part of renewal. By honoring this process, we align with the deeper wisdom of nature and our own souls. You can read more, if interested in her bestselling Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype.
Steiner says (you may have noticed that a go-to here at the Intentional Table is biodynamics guru, Rudolf Steiner and his work on the universal nature of things in our cosmos) of the plant: “if we take account not only the dynamics of warmth and light and of light conditions in the year when the plant is growing, but starting from the root base ourselves on the dynamics of light and warmth at least in the year before…” and, similarly, “That which spreads out through the brain is a highly advanced heap of manure.” (HA, from the compost come I.
What forms the brain (or the root) is drawn directly from the world by means of nourishment. Sadhguru, a favorite of mine says that we are all collections (in the body). Sadhguru often explains that the human body is essentially a "piece of this planet" made up of the food we consume. He emphasizes that everything we eat is a product of the earth—plants, animals, and even water—and that these nutrients are transformed into the tissues and systems of our body. According to Sadhguru, recognizing this helps us see the interconnectedness between ourselves and the planet, fostering a sense of responsibility toward the environment. He also highlights that the quality of food we consume directly impacts not just our physical health but our mental and energetic well-being, as food is the building block of what we are.
You are what you eat.
Beyond the root “brain” the plant becomes more and more refined until it is predominantly composed of air and light. “[I]n the head we have cosmic forces; while in the system of metabolism and limbs we have to do with earthly forces — cosmic substances and earthly forces.” This is simply that the root is composed most of the physical material it absorbs directly, whereas the leaves and flowers of a plant are “inhaled” from the cosmos – air, light, and subtle substantiality. Steiner extends this image to our organs: the brain being our root and the other organs being centers of “breathing” by which we assimilate substantiality. Much in the way that a plant breathes in the air in combination with light to build its form, our organs assimilate what they need from their surrounding atmosphere in combination with the radiant energy contained in our food. Likewise, within the human being, we are rooted in the sensual world but unfold to spiritual heights within. At least, that would be my hope.
See you next time, in part 2, which will be called: LEAF
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Here is the poem, as I mentioned above: This is a deep offering for me, and I feel very honored to share it with you all. I wrote this in 2020.
Heartwood
heart·wood : ˈhärtˌwo͝od/
noun: The dense inner part of a tree trunk, yielding the hardest timber.
Not a sapling,
a willowy green youth,
yearning to flower,
to be,
to rise,
to shoulder the sun’s love.
Spread your seeds,
malleable to the fickle wind,
ever bowing to natures mastery.
Not an ancient
with frail center,
to give way with the next breath.
Pithy, pitted and hollow.
Forgive and yield
to return in grace.
Move to the edge of the sun’s shadow,
shoulder to shoulder with your seed.
Malleable to the fickle wind,
ever bowing to natures mastery.
The balance,
the fulcrum
between the worlds,
of verdant rise,
mushroom under fern.
Now risen and complete,
under full bloom,
malleable yet resilient
to the fickle wind,
ever bowing to natures mastery.
The Heartwood,
the center,
the core,
the overflowing abundance
that is the center of the masterful life.
Lived at this time
and in this place
by this human being
and with you, beloveds,
ever bowing to natures mastery.
How do I respond?
What must I choose?
What shapes must I make?
What is the color of my Heartwood
now that I find myself
in that maturity,
here and now?
Ever bowing to natures mastery.
I have received the invitation
to the abundant table
made of Heartwood.
Offered of my ancestors
and given to a life,
now of service.
This richness of giving,
ever bowing to natures mastery.
May I listen to the whispers
of the wind through my branches.
May I know the density of my bones.
May I know the flow in the sapwood
and sense its rhythm.
May I provide the Heartwood
for my beloveds table,
that they may behold the strength of my offering,
as an ancestor.
a beautiful, albeit long, missive.
and i have to say, Heart Work is hard work, but it sounds like you have leapt into the fray~~~
to your point of the human brain being likened to the hearty thick roots of a plant, having held a human brain in my hands- they are the antithesis of a plant's root system, as they are the softest, most malleable, least dense, most easily bruised part of the human body. with that said, perhaps the analogy holds up anyway, as we humans are potentially the most physically frail of all humans, despite the propensity of so many of us to strike out at others with words, fists, clubs, other weapons.....
keep it coming Jonathan- this table is getting fuller and fuller.....
wowsa! I want to come work in your garden.