Stealing Magnolias
what herbalism, artemis II and awe has to teach us about deep time and resisting the urge to get smaller
A few nights ago, under the cover of sunset, I went for a walk. I had marked some magnolia trees that were in peak bloom, and I wanted to see if it felt easy / accessible to pick a few blossoms that were headed for abscission and about to drop.
There were plenty, and so I gathered a several handfuls, and tucked them carefully into a tote. I know people often pickle magnolias, but I decided to make a syrup.
In my experience, herbalism can function as a kind of botanomancy. Divination with plants. What you feel called to work with can be a reading, a lesson that emerges in the holiest of collaborations, between people and the spirit world that we most often encounter through nature.
When I got home, I thoroughly soaked and washed my flowers. (If you decide to do this, make sure the flowers weren’t sprayed with any pesticide, which might mean harvesting them from a friend or neighbor’s yard, or checking mosquito treatment plans with your local city.)
Then, I carefully separated the petals from the hard cone at their center. I saved those fragments to use later in a botanical print. I set the tray of delicate petals in the window to dry a bit, and began researching magnolias to see what I could learn about this plant, which I have been appreciating for years, but never felt moved enough to work with.
It turns out that magnolias have existed for at least 100 million years. They bloomed during the time of the dinosaurs! Read that again. When you see these fragrant, waxy marvels, in white, pink and dark magenta, you are tunneling through deep time, moving simultaneously backwards and forwards, surrounded by something ancient. (For scale, homo sapiens have only been around for some 300,000 years.)
Some scientists call them living fossils because they look almost identical as they did back then: Big as dinner plates, smelling like jasmine, only in the subtropical forests of the Cretaceous era. (How do we know all of this? Traces of pollen in the fossil records, apparently!)
I checked my petals, and they were almost dry, so I put a pot of filtered water on the stove to simmer. When it began to lightly roil, I turned the heat down and added a cup and a half of organic cane sugar. Normally I’d use maple syrup, coconut sugar or honey as a sweetener, but I didn’t want to overpower the delicate, ginger-like essence of the flower.
Before magnolias, there were no flowers; only the greenery of plants like ferns, conifers.
Once the sugar dissolved, I submerged the petals in the water, and gently stirred them around with a wooden spoon.
On my way home from my foraging adventure, I decided to take a detour through the park. I came across an altercation between two people. I didn’t see what happened, but one of the aggrieved parties kept threatening to call ICE on the other one. A few people quickly intervened and helped de-escalate the situation, but it left me rattled and I had to sit down for a few moments to steady my nervous system.
I’ve had this theory for awhile that Americans (and perhaps the entire world) are responding to the increasingly harsh conditions of existence by leaning into selfishness and self-centeredness. Here I’m practicing “observation without judgement,” which I learned to do at Kripalu at the top of the year, meaning it is just noticing, without any moral judgement attached to it. When 47 began his second term, the rallying cry was to stick together, to not let an administration built around cruelty and violence fracture our sense of togetherness, community, humanity. It makes sense that as our realities have gotten harder, more unbearable, more expensive, made more dire by on-going normalized genocides, and escalating interlocking crises, it may be easier to turn inward and focus on what you can control. What you want to feel. What you want to see. After all, how many unfathomable new reports can a person absorb in a day? How many actions can one realistically support? How many fundraising efforts can one realistically give money to?
Amid that fatigue arrived the recent Artemis II journey around the moon. I’ll admit, when I first heard about it, I ignored it. I love space, but it seemed like a waste of resources, given everything else that’s happening right now. And then the crew started sharing their observations, and sending photos back, and we were able to collectively witness new sights, and evolve together, if one chose. We learned that the “dark” side of the moon, a side we will never see from Earth because the moon rotates on its axis at the same rate that it orbits around Earth is actually shot through with colors, including yellow from basalt and turquoise and purple due to titanium deposits. Watching a team of government officials share wonder, emotion, joy, love and speak about the need to see ourselves as a collective front — humanity — rather than divisive factions at the same time as teams of other government officials threatened to annihilate entire civilizations. It was refreshing, for once, to struggle to believe what I was seeing not because it was unbearable or synthetic content but because my brain did not evolve to grapple with the stunning photos of the eclipse and earthset that Artemis sent back.
Artemis’ cooperation, their capacity for awe, their joy and good humor was the complete opposite of the fear and terror that is permeates everything other realm of federal governance right now. Liz Plank described this feeling of collaboration, efficiency and camaraderie as competency porn, and I think that’s exactly right. Plank also pointed to research that shows that awe strengthens our psychological resilience, functions as a reset button and soothes the feeling that everything is about to fall apart.
Once the petals wilted in the hot sugar mixture, I set a timer for thirty minutes.
The magnolias have the power to function within the same logic. Most of us will not get to see the moon, or earth from outer space in our lifetime. But most of us can walk into a park right now, and smell a magnolia, and be reminded that even though our time on this beautiful planet may be a glorious drop in the sea, we are still part of its 3.5 billion year history and what we do with our time matters.
When the timer dinged, I strained the mixture into a large Pyrex measuring cup to let it cool.
The syrup is done. It’s cooling in the fridge. I plan to add some of it to a homemade strawberry sorbet I’ll be serving to friends who are fighting for the living world. The rest I’ll freeze, to use throughout the year when I need reminders of the elasticity of time, both the insignificance of our time on Earth and the magnitude of it.
the juicy bits
Recovery stack The Small Bow is having a spring fundraiser! I’ve been helping them appeal to a broader range of diverse voices in recovery; at the very least, look at their sick new merch, designed by Hairpin alum Edith Zimmerman.
Creative Growth, a non-profit based in Oakland, works with developmentally disabled artists to showcase their work. They have a new show up, and everything in it is for sale. It’s a great way to collect affordable pieces and support a beautiful cause in the process.
These headscarves made by Sarah Musa, who created a kefiyyah inspired line to honor her Palestinian heritage. The multicolored poppy one is my absolute favorite. It’s exquisitely made, and more importantly, all proceeds go to urgent relief efforts in Palestine.
The much contested $37 million renovation of Prospect Park’s Cashmere Vale is officially underway — please tune in to how this development destroys a historic queer cruising site.
You can now order everyone’s favorite fancy jello treat Solid Wiggles online! And they have a new cookbook !
The vinyl records that Cauleen Smith, artist and filmmaker, plays for her class, “Music for Visual Thinking.” Selections include Sylvester, for when “the political climate gets rough.”
Young Muslim women in Nigeria are publishing erotica on WhatsApp to avoid censorship and earn money. We love to see it.
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I think this is the best thing I’ve ever read.
This made me feel deeply rooted where I am and also part of something bigger and deeper than I've ever really imagined. Perspective in the truest sense - Thank you 🙏