When I was 20 years old, I spent two months working on a vegetable farm that required each of its workers to sing to the plants we cultivated. We’d sing one song as we tilled soil, another as we planted, and yet another as we harvested. There was a song for the avocado orchard, another for the root vegetables, and a beautiful tune reserved solely for the leafy greens. These were Sanskrit chants, passed down through generations of farmers to help each set of crops grow to their fullest potential.
This practice seemed bizarre to me at first. I mean, prior to arriving on this farm, I had never before thought of speaking to plants or trees. It had never occurred to me that they could sense the vibration of our voices...and to be honest, it seemed unlikely to me that a being without ears could even hear us. But those two months changed my mind. I found joy in offering my vocal energy to the plants. I watched them change and flourish as we uplifted them through song. I felt as though I could connect with them on an almost human level...and that made me fall in love with vocally interacting with plants.
So now, as JR and I travel and hike across the United States, I sometimes take a few moments to sing to the trees and plants that catch my attention. Sometimes it makes me laugh, sometimes it makes me feel silly, sometimes it gives me a sense of complete connectedness...but the one thing I’ve always experienced is a sense of humility.
Let me tell you, you’ve never felt so insignificant, so in awe, as when you’ve stood underneath a 200-foot-tall Sequoia, trying to belt out a song of gratitude grand enough for that massive tree, a melody that could reach its branches with force and purpose. The day we took this photo, I lifted a song to this tree, which is more than 2,000 years old, and I wondered if it heard me in the timelessness of its being. The smile on my face should tell you...I think it did....
Difícil expressar o orgulho vendo essas cenas... sempre tão carinhosa com tudo o que vem da natureza: bichinhos, florzinhas, a cor do céu, procura a lua quando anoitece... Ao mesmo tempo é assustador enxergar o quanto temos influência sobre esses “tiny little humans”. Se ela reproduz tudo o que vê em casa, em cenas como essa, pesa tanto o orgulho quanto a responsabilidade. E é lindo. Ela é linda. Que os próximos sejam assim lindos. 🙏♥️💑 P.S.: TO-DA vez que passamos por esse arbusto no condomínio, ela faz isso e fala “hmm, oso mamãe!” 💘