Warm, Their Gathered Light

Lessons from the bog; Swamp Lanterns, Skunk Cabbage, Lysichiton americanus

Deep in the piney woods of late, in places low and damp, mysterious light gatherers swell and grow, reaching bravely upward, voiceless and steady, collecting fuel: raindrops, and fog dew, sunbeams and moonbeams, cloud glow and wisps of light from every imagining, even occasionally, stray bits from an early spring rainbow.

These are swamp lanterns, wild, living, dioxide-breathing, plant creatures, glowing torchieres fueled by bog water, thick, woodsy air, wild-gathered light and organic decay. They are a lesson, a form of magic one simply cannot minimize or explain away.

Swamp Lanterns are completely content standing in the shadowy places, silent within spluttering rain for hours and days, medicinal toes rooted deep in standing water and chill, dark mud. You will not hear complaint.

Strangely, they do not mind in the least your close proximity or careful observation. You may even ask them questions. But consider that the lineage of Lysichiton americanus have heard at least a thousand times, every possible delivery, every lame complaint and fetid joke concerning their skunk-like odor, so perhaps, if you do choose to dampen your knees and tarry close by, skip the exaggerated eye rolls and faux indignation, focusing instead upon their pregnant beauty and glow, especially, considering the olfactory assaults your scented hair products and vulgar, dryer sheets must surely wage upon their much finer senses, to say nothing of your breath.

We may fool ourselves in troubled times, looking upward for hope where sometimes it does not exist, climbing toward outcrop and sunrise, toward that river of ever distant stars.

Is a being any less magical that somehow gleans the photons left by others, gathering them up to multiply their power, mixing them into a warming glow?

We might learn from these beacons of fertility and warmth, who glow into the darkness, even on the dampest and coolest of days. Instead of always looking elsewhere for our help and struggling ever toward higher ground, there is a wealth of light and hope yet to be gleaned in the least and lowly places, flecks of pure energetic gold, abandoned in the ditches and seeps, trapped in crevice and mud, in heartache and struggle, waiting for some magical being who will bother to gather it up, bit by bit and reform it, a glowing torch held high above the lowly swamp, a light in the darkness, magic and hope where the cynic sees only mud …and loss.

What will you gather in these dark times?

When you close your eyes, can you see them, can you imagine all those unassuming little wisps of light, orphaned perhaps, but not yet played out or lost, just waiting to be gathered and bundled, and stirred?

Stand taller, then, gather them in, bit by precious bit. Whisper your grateful intent.

Now. Raise your flickering torch. Share its warmth.

Help light up this lowly swamp.

Lysichiton americanus, Skunk Cabbage is found from Kodiak Island, Alaska south through British Columbia, Washington, Oregon, and Northern California as far south as Santa Cruz County. Isolated populations are also found in northeastern Washington, northern Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. In ancient lore, putting skunk cabbage leaves in a canoe calmed the seals during a hunt. The leaves were also used to store cakes of dried berries and to wrap salmon and other fish before placing in the coals.