When I was a child, quite young, my dad led my brother and I through Forest. I stopped to revel in Moss, my fingers loving her, my cheek meeting hers. We turned to go and my dad said, “Careful. Moss is Alive, you know.”
I did not know.
I was at the age where I was just beginning to piece together first conceptions of Reality, and to me, Animals were Alive — this was obvious. But I had not yet conceived that Plants and Trees — and Moss — were Alive. I did not understand Aliveness, until that moment. Or more accurately, my conception of Aliveness — expanded — in that moment. And so I understood it in a vibrantly different way, for in that moment, moss was sentient, intelligent, aware, she was her own Entity — she had the capacity for Speech, for communication — communion with Other.
Communion with me.
I felt a rush of terror and love and wonder course through me as my mind cathedral opened to allow the shift in worldview.
We walked away from the patch of Moss and my brother, my favourite Joker, whispered to me, “If you turn around quick you’ll catch the moss moving, and watching you, cause she’s alive!”
So we walked away — casually — then with sudden glee, whipped round to see if we could catch Moss creeping after us, or winking, or suddenly human-like, that is, Alive, like we understood ourselves to be.
And every time I would enter the forest after this, I felt Moss watching me, the way you would watch a friend’s beauty — with generosity and tenderness.
Moss Magic. For changing minds.
[ from Leaf’s Log, earthdate covid-19 quarantine, April 2020]