Every summer there is a breath out. With hot sunny days, the deep greens ensure maximum productivity, releasing high volumes of the most fundamental and indispensable natural ingredient we require into the air; oxygen. Carbon is traded from the atmosphere in return, and flowers, birds, insects, mammals and a multitude of life forms flourish in the profit of abundance. Expectation hangs in the air. And then, every winter, they breathe in. A deep collective inhale, a pause of impending rest and rejuvenation. These are the forest’s seasons, its rhythms and life cycles bound in nature’s perfect symphony of survival. Cycles of incredible intelligence and complexity.
These are ecology’s innovatively crafted patterns of design and renewal, interdependence and balance, efficiency and temperance. The core principles that are the building blocks of ecological natural leadership. The very same patterns and principles that we, the human animal, are essentially dependant on for our well-being. Or dare I say; even our very survival? For the patterns of ecology are the operating system of all life on earth.
There is a lot, I believe, that we can learn from forests. So for the purposes of this article, I invite you to step outside your memory or imagination for a short while, and spend some time in the present moment. Or in a forest (same thing). On a slow virtual walk.
What do you see? Trees of different kinds and sizes, bushes, plants, grass, leaf litter. Perhaps some birds and insects. Maybe some animal tracks. Or if you are really lucky, a fleeting glimpse of a red deer as it moves silently through the undergrowth, with its soft black eyes glinting nervously in the dappled sunlight.
And what do you smell? Air. As it should smell, filtered and freshened by the plants, the precious commodity cherished by your body, your lungs, your tissues, your muscles and every cell within it. Perhaps the aroma of freshly turned soil, as grounded earthy-goodness, the planet’s grand garden of fertility, is released above the surface.
And what do you hear? Birdsong. Perhaps your own muffled footfall on the leaves. Maybe your own breath and heartbeat. Or if you are really lucky, nothing at all.
Beautiful moments. Things that can be seen, smelt or heard. They are on the surface and easily recognised. Tangible. But what about the processes that are unseen, below the surface or hidden from view? Those that are silent. Those that are intangible and not normally not recognised nor understood. Unnoticed partnerships and processes underscoring the vibrancy and significance of the forest and the laws of ecology. The imperceptible yet critical fundamentals that are often taken for granted in society. Such as pure oxygen-enriched air, for example.
And in order to track a roadmap through the great and now undeniable existential crisis facing our global societal systems, perhaps its time to fully admit that our governance of these systems are indeed, in ecological terms, deeply deeply flawed. I refer to this consciousness as ecological humility; a realisation that the human animal is not immune to the great laws of ecology. In times of crisis history shows us that we usually respond to the consequences in either one of two ways; we do less of the same or we do more of the same. Its time to do things differently. And admit that the dilemmas of climate, environment, finance, resource or territory are all rooted in an ecological crisis.
This is essentially what my talks and work as a wilderness guide is about; re-writing the story of our relationship with nature. And during a conversation tour to The Netherlands in April this year, I was fortunate enough to spend time in forest habitats. As opposed to formal presentations, at times I would take the conversations outdoors; ‘unplugged’ sessions walking in nature. It is a wonderful way to create boundary-less meaningful dialogue. And a very special opportunity to import some ecological insights and impressions I have learned in Botswana, Zimbabwe or Namibia, in a forest in Drenthe, Apeldoorn or Zeist. You see, the inclusive principles of ecology are universal.
On one such outing in Zeewolde I noticed a young alder tree that had been browsed by a red dear. A branch had been bitten off with the characteristic 45 degree bite angle, caused by the overbite of the animal’s teeth. It’s a subtle and seemingly insignificant sign, but one of great ecological significance indeed. Because the angled break actually encourages and creates vibrant secondary growth within the plant, as opposed to the clean 90 degree cut of a blade or tool which actually suppresses growth. So by merely feeding on the tree, the deer creates opportunity for the tree, and trees, to expand and develop. Or in other words to grow exponentially. Furthermore, the ecological intelligence of the partnership ensures that the deer would not over consume from the tree, but only take a sustainable amount, trading consumption with growth potential. The deer obtains a meal while tree obtains opportunity. To grow secondary branch for example, and to develop more leaves in the sun to breathe for us.
I refer to this remarkable process as the ‘bite of temperance, (or moderation),’ and it is one of the most fundamental transactions in nature. It happens all around us in nature and is essential for the the health and resilience of ecosystem diversity. However, in modern society, the polar opposite happens. We have been taught to consume totally, with a linear organised pattern. Or in other words, with a 90 degree cut. With corporate intelligence as opposed to ecological intelligence we browse compulsively from the alder in order to maintain our industries that are built on financial or material gain. The nett result? The resource slowly withers and begins to die. At this point we simply move on to the next alder tree, and then the next, and the next. What the ‘bite of temperance’ teaches us is that if we browse from the tree, and if we select the amount and impact wisely and ecologically, the resource can multiply exponentially. The alder trees grow and thicken, providing habitat not only to insects, spiders, reptiles, birds and mammals, but also the unseen ecological superheroes such as bacteria, micro-organisms and fungi. This to the benefit of the ecosystem in its entirety. As the more diverse an ecosystem becomes, not only the more productive it is, but the more resilient to damage it becomes.
Similarly, do we perhaps not mirror our relationships and partnerships with others largely in the same image as we run our financial institutions? That of consumption and personal benefit. And to expect from others what we lack in our own selves. Such as the virtues of compassion, patience, empathy, understanding or tolerance. These virtues often become the casualties of our compulsive relationships or partnerships, those that over-browse from the alder of life. Its an interesting thought.
Perhaps the only hope we may have of changing flawed systems is to reverse the order of this process. By this I mean to firstly transform our own selves and our personal inner ecosystem. Then establish ecological partnerships and relationships based on the laws of interdependence, diversity and an awareness of finite resources. Perhaps only then, because of this, may it be possible for our flawed systems to ultimately transform.
So if we find the concept of ecological humility enticing, and admit that our well-being cannot be separated from the well-being of nature, then a bite of temperance is required in our daily lives. Especially when it comes to the expectations from our own selves. “I’m not going to consume from the beginning, nor from the end, but only a little from the middle,’ the bite suggests. In this way, tempered, conscious growth potential emerges as a consequence.
It was a glorious sunny day for our walk at Zeewolde. The forest, in marvelous bloom, was breathing out deeply. The air was rich, sweet and fresh. Again I marvelled at the resilience of plants to survive the winter, especially in Europe with extreme seasonal changes. We must have been a curious sight; an eclectic group of people perched on the forest floor analysing a branch of an alder bush and the bite of temperance! For all of us at the time however, it made all the sense in the world. The more we studied the bite and immersed in the story, the more we noticed other bites on the vegetation around us. Feeding signs of sheep, grazing deer, cows and rabbits. They were everywhere.
And the following litany of the seasons came to mind:
Its summer now, and the plant is in full productive swing. The days are warm, skies are blue and conditions perfect. The forest breathes out. And just as in modern society, summertime is a season of primary production; we extract, consume and produce to the max. We all aspire to live the ‘endless summer’ do we not? However, because we have a tendency to over-consume, we need to realise that summer is the most delicate sensitive season of all. A heightened degree of consciousness and humility is required. Therefore we need to slow down to acknowledge and celebrate the unseen partnerships and processes that got us through the winter. Because another will soon be upon us.
Autumn. Cooler and shorter days. A season to slow the momentum. It is tempting to maintain production for as long as possible, but autumn is a reminder of the approaching winter. This ensures humility in us. Leaves fall and in doing so return the ancient sunlight back home into the soil. Therefore it is critical to be mindful of the impact of carbon carbon production now. As the leaves fall, the plant’s growth energy retreats to the root systems. Winter. Times are tough. Crisis. The growth energy and reserve fuel for the plant is stored below the surface, hidden from view. It is safe here during this season of recuperation, reflection and re-alignment. That of strategic planning to ensure the fungal networks and micro-organisms, the unseen heroes, are maintained. Nutrients or essential supplies are shared between plants via these networks. The tree and the forest breathes in and holds on. Spring. Longer days and warmth. The growth energy and potential slowly returns above the surface, nourishing the buds, branches and leaf nodes. before summer emerges.And at some moment within this process, a deer comes along and takes a bite …
On the surface, the story may seem to be about a deer and a plant. But of course its about infinitely more. Its about connecting people and ecology. Its about what is beneath the surface. Unseen. Silent. For these are spaces from which inspiration, collaboration and transformation emerges.