Invisible connections.

I’ve always loved a trip to the library- maybe because making up stories was something I did way before I could read them (and way, way, before I could write them cohesively - I was held behind during school assembly to practice handwriting as mine was illegible and tasked with keeping diaries over the school holidays as my teachers were so concerned about my complete lack of understanding of spelling and grammar) or maybe because I love things being organised, neat and tidy.

I read a fairly random assortment of non-fiction, having re-learnt by watching my children as they simply pick up any book they fancy reading, without overthinking it (knowing if they really don’t like it, they don’t have to finish it - it took me years to realise this and break the habit of a lifetime of finishing what I started). Sometimes I just select a book because I like the picture on the front (this is quite a freeing and mindful experience - a great way to practice curiosity and playfulness, something we often neglect as we get older) or sometimes I go hunting for titles on a specific subject area (like the time I got a tiny bit obsessed by the shipwreck on the local shoreline and came home with an armful of books on local history and maritime disasters…that was a time I definitely leant into curiosity and possibly caused slight concern with the librarian!).

I recently read ‘The Secret Life of Fungi’ by Aliya Whiteley and found myself jotting down quotes from it in my notebook, finding comfort in re-reading and reflecting on certain lines from the book. Lines like: ‘The internet creates incredible opportunities for communication, for togetherness, and yet there is such loneliness in the 7 billion of us. But we are all intimately linked, part of this one world, and fungi is one of the strongest glues that binds us.’ Because it is a book about mushrooms and mould (how there are over 15000 species, how they are more closely related to animals than plants, how certain truffles command gigantic sums of money), but it is really a book about how everything is connected, about how entwined we all are, about evolution and survival, about how our environments shape us.

The author shines a light on the myths, the magic and the macabre around mushrooms, the dark and hidden world of fungi, most of which can’t be seen by us humans, a lot of which we feel nervous of or even scared by. Because although there are only a few of the 15000 plus types that can be life threatening if we eat them, we tend to back away, shy away, avoid and make assumptions and generalisations about things we don’t understand. And this made me think about meditation; so many myths and misconceptions surrounding something so fascinating and misunderstood by so many. It is hard not to make judgements about things we’re perplexed by, things that are invisible, things that seem almost mystical. Unbelievable. Almost.

This got me thinking about how meditation is a bit like the almost invisible webs that connect fungi, that allow them to send unseen messages across vast networks to ensure their survival; I think about how I ground myself and take a few long, measured breaths before I begin each class I teach, setting the tone of the session, knowing my energy needs to hold the space and create a nurturing environment. How each person’s meditation experience is unique and utterly their own but how the feeling in a room changes when a group of people close their eyes and focus on the journey I guide them through. How in those moments we are both connected and separate. And I think about the Metta Bhavana or Loving Kindness meditations where we send silent wishes of happiness and health to others, to the whole world, and how our brains respond to this by releasing ‘happiness’ hormones like oxytocin; we’re wired to feel good when we nurture connection to others.

And then there’s the way my children are calm and focused while I practice yoga in the same room as them; simply by being close by they pick up on the calm atmosphere or feeling or aura or whatever you want to call it. They are a part of it by simply being there. We can begin to explain this using science and psychology, using terms like co-regulation or emotional mirroring, but we can’t explain fully that collective calm, that invisible connection. Of course my children find mushrooms fascinating - what child wouldn’t - they spring up seemingly out of nowhere in the most peculiar places, only to disappear again days later. Nature’s ultimate magic trick.

I’m not saying I’m a lover of all fungus and of every mould spore (I had to work hard on a sense of acceptance when the common stinkhorn mushroom erupted in my strawberry patch this summer…if you don’t know this specimen I recommend you look it up!) But next time I walk through a forest or woods, I know I’ll be more conscious of the hidden world of lichen and fungus and mushrooms that bind so many life forms together, that sustain so much of the eco-system, that have the intelligence to reproduce and grow and relocate and evolve. Each time I see a brightly coloured toad-stall or an almost camouflaged field mushroom I will acknowledge the billions of fungi and their microbial networks that go unseen, that are often quietly creating symbiotic relationships with plants and even animals; supporting their environment and carrying out crucial work I can only begin to understand. As Aliya so powerfully surmises in her book, ‘sometimes we become aware that we are standing in a presence that dwarfs us.’ A feeling I’ve had many times during my meditation journey, a feeling, I think, that does us good.

There is a line in the book that struck a cord with me immediately: ‘I wonder, now, how much understanding springs from connection’, and I’ve reflected on this a lot. Maybe we only begin to understand things when we’ve established our own connection to them, once they become meaningful to us. And maybe that connection can begin with curiosity. With an open mind. Cultivating a respect and awe for those things in life we may never full understand, even if this leads us outside of our comfort zone.

Emma x

P.S. If you’re intrigued to discover some of the mind boggling goings on of fungi, I highly recommend reading this book - you’ll never look at the chestnut mushroom (or the mould on the bathroom window) the same way again. The Secret Life of Fungi - Aliya Whiteley.