The Hope of Kingdom Plantae/Plant Hope

In a profound way, the fate of the human species rests on the fate of plants. Plants form the foundation of life on Earth. They are critical to human life as well. They feed us, they keep us warm and keep us cool; they soothe our soul, let us breathe, and give us respite from the storms. There is profound hope in Kingdom Plantae; but there is also a somber warning. Right now the human relationship with plants is at a critical juncture.

One could say that Planet Earth is being haunted by the undead spirits of plants. Disturbed from their peaceful sleep, long dead plants — fossil fuels — now terrorize the living world in the form of carbon dioxide and its ensuing climate crisis. Dug up after millennia, processed and combusted into our atmosphere: now they tell us how they feel about it, in their own way. Could it be that these lifeforms, and their afterlife, did not garner enough respect from those who wished to profit from their use and abuse? And if disrespecting plants sowed the seeds of planetary demise, could respect, care and nourishment for plants be key to humanity’s salvation?

Plants indeed deserve a special reverence and respect. They are our lifeblood. The sun sends some of its energy to our planet and then the plants, almost miraculously, turn that energy into life, oxygen, filtering water in the process. Plants do their best to keep carbon dioxide from getting over-concentrated in our atmosphere, in theory, which in normal times can stabilize global temperatures: plants are the planet’s thermostat — but they, too, have their limits. Beyond that, plants are mysterious and beautiful life-forms themselves, so full of reasons for admiration, love and respect. The stoic and majestic sequoia groves that feed the soul, the maples that sweeten our pancakes, and the rainforests that orchestrate symphonies of luscious life. There is a profusion of hope and inspiration to be drawn from Kingdom Plantae. Somehow, my intuition tells me, the secrets of humanity’s cheerful futures rest squarely in our plantae relatives.

How does one nurture awe, care and respect for the plant kingdom?

Plants account for a whopping 80% of the biomass on Planet Earth; they are by far the most plentiful and successful life-forms known to science. Plants are our relatives. You may remember that fun-fact that banana plants share roughly 44% of their DNA with us humans. Every other plant shares some too, by the way. The profound kinship goes far beyond polypeptide sequences shared in common. We also share the same planet and live in a largely unrecognized, and abused, symbiosis. Next time you see a plant, say, “hello, relative;” plants are part of our family and we are a part of theirs — and there is important healing to be done in these relationships.

In a number of the courses I teach I have asked my students to do an unusual field trip. I ask them to go outside and spend a solid 5 minutes witnessing an individual living plant. I do this because one day at Baker Beach I spent five minutes admiring a shrub that was swaying in the wind. I realized that so many of my prejudices about Kingdom Plantae were such because of failure to truly witness and acknowledge the realities of plant life.

Plants are alive. They eat, breathe, and drink just like we do. They do their best to procreate, and maybe they even love in their own way. They struggle. They also die. They have so much in common with us. And in profound ways, our fate and the fate of plants are deeply woven together.

Plants are also our destiny. Once we live out our human lives, our molecules eventually nourish and become some plant life-form. They give us life and then we become their life; they are not only our genetic relatives, but they are our soul siblings as well. They are our family.

Plants are a profound source of hope. Plants persist in everything they do. They go through their life-cycles with patient determination. They embody resilience in their nonchalance. They seem to accept that dying is part of living and that there will be something else, always; that change is constant.

Perhaps the deepest hope that plants can offer us is that of presence and existing in the moment. Instead of frantically worrying over global problems, plants offer the peace of the near and present world right here. They serve as a model for how a human individual might find hope, peace, and determination.

They might seem all too mundane, but maybe this is how plants have always secretly been the answer that’s right in front of us.