Gathering Moss | a book review

I  just couldn’t help myself. Once I finished this book I had to say something about it, to share it a bit.

Robin Wall Kimmerer is an amazing writer. She grabbed onto my heart with her descriptions of mosses, their sex-lives, their incredibly important yet somewhat discreet place within a forest habitat. We often see moss as we walk a trail, it’s rich green colour catching our eye as it nestles in below a tree or claims a patch of rock that’s ever so fun to climb upon. Their world is simply amazing and Robin spins her words in a poetic and poignant way that explains not only just how amazing these mosses are but also how much an integral part of the world they are, a world that was here before we as humans felt some right to claim it.

Like all of my book reviews, I include quotes from the author. I hope you take a moment to read Robin’s words. I could describe what this book talks about but books are like people, they are made what they are by the voice that speaks from them.

Our ancient teachers tell us that the role of human beings is respect and stewardship. Our responsibility is to care for the plants and all of the land  in a way that honors life. We are taught that using a plant shows respect for nature, and we use it in a way that allows it to continue bringing its gifts. The role of our sacred sage is to make thoughts visible to the Creator. We can learn from this teacher and live in a such a way that our thoughts of respect and gratitude are also made visible to the world.

The patterns of reciprocity by which mosses bind together a forest community offer us a vision of what could be.  They take only the little they need and give back in abundance. Their presence supports the lives of rivers and clouds, trees, birds, algae, and salamanders, while ours puts them at risk.  Human-designed systems are a far cry from this ongoing creation of ecosystem health, taking without giving back. Clearcuts may meet the short-term desires of one species, but at the sacrifice of the equally legitimate needs of mosses and murrelets, salmon and spruce. I hold tight to the vision that someday soon we will find the courage of self-restraint, the humility to live like mosses. On that day, when we rise to give thanks to the forest, we may hear the echo in return, the forest giving thanks to the people.

This moss “fabric” is rolled up in bolt, ready for sale. Sheets are sold by the yard and the website advertises that it can be used “wherever Mother Nature’s touch is wanted”.

I saw them in the main concourse at the Portland airport, filling in the spaces under the plastic trees. I breathed their names when I saw them–Antitrichia, Rhytidiadelphus, Metaneckera–but they turned their eyes away.

 

I could go on about Schistostega or Goblin’s Gold, that can live in caves made by waves where the only light is that reflecting off of the water as the sun rises or sets, or how sphagnum actually creates a bog, or how some moss can reproduce with sperm and egg or just simply clone themselves if need be. But I won’t because I want you to read this book, to experience it in Robin’s words, as in the quotes above.

It’s the little things, like moss, that make this ailing earth of ours so incredible that I wish my arms were big enough to give it a huge hug and make it all better.

Happy creating! And next time you’re out there walking, say ‘hello!’ to the moss.

Moongirl xx