Lessons from a Burning Bush

A few weeks back I went on a wander as part of a group effort to potentially evolve and expand our Connecticut Gaian Guild (more on that another time). The mission: walk about and listen to the land and come back twenty minutes later.

I admit I typically stick to the trails, but in this instance, it being winter and the landscape being more visible, I headed into a part of the woods I hadn’t walked through before, drawn that way by the fiery setting sun.

About fifty feet in I could pass no further, enveloped as I was on all sides by a sea of burning bush. I felt trapped by a red wall. And yes, with this occurring not long after the presidential election, my brain made the not-so-subtle connection to our current political reality here in America.

As I sat there (recognizing the futility of trying to navigate this impasse—at least in this context), I simply tried to quiet my mind. To enjoy the warmth of the sun just in front of me. The fire in the sky, as opposed to the one surrounding me.

But my mind went quickly to the invasive plants—to imagining cutting them down to free the ‘natural environment’ to grow trees and native species again. In fact, on this very land I had spent many days removing burning bush, feeling a bit bad about killing them while also understanding that they were strangling out so much other life, both because of their prolific growth and their ability to spread their abundant seeds readily.

Then I also thought about how that burning bush was here because so many people love it. They planted it in their gardens and yards because of its bright red leaves, and it has spread far beyond yards, taking over entire landscapes (as birds too love their seeds). Many people continue to love it—with it still being sold in nurseries around the U.S. (including Home Depot!). On the Internet, it’s as easy to find details on how to care for burning bush (from plant stores and gardening guides) as it is on how to kill it (from environmental and conservation groups).

If this isn’t a perfect metaphor for America’s current political reality, I don’t know what is. This burning bush (with its red coloring and not-so-subtle overtones of Christian imagery)¹ is spreading across the land, disrupting ecosystems and taking far more from the land than it is giving back. From one perspective. From another, it is improving the land, bringing bright color and joy to an otherwise wild and untamed landscape.

While I admit it’s hard to inhabit the latter perspective, it is not hard to see how that can be seen as valid by those who hold it.

Is Burning Bush Here to Stay?

Ironically, as with other invasives, it may be easy to wring our hands about burning bush’s spread and even organize community efforts to rein it in or cut it back. But as with fundamentalism, it may come to dominate the land all the same. Community efforts, participatory democracy, organizing may simply not be able to stem the fiery tide driven by a perspective that a red horizon is simply more beautiful, more worthy, more divine (even if others believe this is out of touch with the ecological reality in which we inhabit).

Then again, more strategic interventions may disrupt that trajectory. Reading Becoming Earth, the author, Ferris Jabr, details the value of fire in landscape management. Not only does it clear strangling understory growth and prevent fuel buildup (and thus more devastating fires), it can even manage pests. For example, Jabr notes that regular fires kill acorn weevil pupae that grow in leaf litter, which in turn improves acorn crops (which, being a key food for many species, including humans, makes for a more robust and biodiverse forest).

And yet, from the early colonial days, as Jabr notes, fire was misunderstood, banned, with those using fire as a land management tool even shot. Again, this reflects a radical split in understanding.

Could fire be the means to manage the spread of red? Literally for burning bush, figuratively for the anti-Earth fundamentalism spreading across the globe? And what does that mean? Militancy? Non-violent civil disobedience? Monkeywrenching? I admit I have no answers—though others have grappled with this question for decades. Moreover, with the amount of fuel that has built up (literally and figuratively), even a prescribed burn could easily spin out of control, causing more damage than benefit.²

We’re in a challenging time—one that might get really nasty as the new political regime works actively and aggressively to spread red across the land. Perhaps all we can do is to not allow ourselves to feel overwhelmed by that fear. Or maybe it means persuading folks that proverbial burning bush isn’t the best for them or their community. Or maybe it means grabbing a saw and cutting back the burning bush near you. Or even, perhaps, preparing the ground for a fire to restore the lands around us. I honestly don’t know. But I’m grateful for the deepened perspective that came from sitting surrounded by—or more accurately in communion with—burning bush.

Endnote

1) God appeared to Moses in the guise of a burning bush to tell him to free his people from bondage.

2) Though a delay could mean the fire becomes even more devastating when it comes….