Lately I’ve heard a few painful stories about people transitioning in death. And then, there are the conversations about difficult life concerns that beg to be let go. At the same time, synchronistically the dreams with themes of brokenness and darkness well up. All this has been ruminating in the background of my other thoughts.
Meanwhile I met a new fungus the other day as I took my morning walk with Miss Tallulah. (For those who don’t know she is my constant Catahoula canine companion.) As I typically am with any new introduction, I was curious about its name. I learned from my plant identifier that the name of the cluster of mushrooms is pleated inkcap. I wondered if it was edible. I’m deeply interested in learning all about mushrooms lately. I know now many varieties offer medicinal value. Of course, not all can be eaten so investigating the pleated inkcap’s toxicity is good.
I learned my new friend isn’t going to stick around for long which felt disappointing. But this mushroom has a job, and it needs to focus on it before the day passes. All too soon it will collapse back into the soil. It ingests and grows out of dead plant material. It’s known as a decomposer. Its innate rhythm of death and rebirth is a daily dance of continuous evolution. Its life’s purpose enriches the soil keeping the earth healthy and vibrant.
And so, I found myself taking its picture. Since we’d become fast friends, I wanted to remember this moment. I felt a sense of gratitude that I found this cluster and fortunate to have noticed their presence rather than simply walking over them.
I’ve come to realize that while it’s best not to ingest their magic there is still a medicine they offer. They popped up (like a dream) into my world from the massive, powerful mycelium underworld. Their essential self seems unafraid to model the needed lesson of birth, death, and rebirth. In this world – the one we all are familiar with – we seem so afraid of death. Our understandable preoccupation fixates on the transition we make at the end of life. Yet I see in this delicate, translucent umbrella mushroom another interpretation. It’s a reminder to let go of all the excess fears and burdens that we carry around like overweighted luggage – the baggage that inevitably costs us more as we weigh in at the travel desk.
What would happen if we took some of the life medicine that this underworld visitor had to offer. Let some of the stress, or worry, or old unhelpful patterns fall away and die. As the awareness of something heavy and no longer needed emerges what would it feel like to observe it, marvel at it, and then let it go. If the pleated inkcap could speak I believe it would say this letting go is a good life rhythm helping to create fertile ground for rebirth. What a simple yet pungent example these petite beings offer!
Making my way up the hill, I notice a heaviness disintegrating. Interesting how the underlying questions from our inner landscape receive respite from unexpected places.
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