The Spruce Came 600 Years Ago

Shuttling back and forth. The grasses feed the ants with seeds, and the ants feed the grasses with soil. They hand off life to one another. Leaf by leaf, root by root, the trees, the berries, the grasses are joining forces, and so there are birds and deer and bugs that have come to join them. And so, the world is made. [1]

This thought followed me through a recent two-week Lindblad National Geographic cruise through the Inside Passage of British Columbia and Alaska. I had brought Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer along, not knowing how much her reflections on relationship and reciprocity would shape how I saw this, not only here but also the world and my place in it.

Everything Is Connected

Kimmerer writes about the interconnectedness of life through spirit, story, and relationship. She reminds us that we’re not separate from the earth but part of its living web. This way of seeing is grounded in Indigenous wisdom and shapes how I experienced the places we traveled. The trees, water, sky, and animals were all part of an ongoing conversation that had been going on long before I arrived.

The Tracker by Tom Brown Jr. echoed that same sense of connection. Brown shares the teachings of Stalking Wolf, an Apache elder, who invited him into a deep relationship with nature through a full presence he called “Sacred Silence.” It’s through stillness, humility, and attention, he writes, that we begin to hear the earth speak.

Old Truths in New Places

I also see this wisdom reflected in Christian traditions. The mystics — St. Francis of Assisi, the Desert Fathers — sought out wilderness not to escape, but to listen more deeply. They practiced simplicity and reverence, offering thanks to the natural world, asking permission to enter a forest. Like Brown, they saw the divine spirit present in all things.

Buddhism offers another path to this same insight. In The New Eight Steps to Happiness[2], the teachings focus on compassion, patience, and gratitude, not just as virtues but as ways of being. A radical passage stayed with me: “May I see all others as my holy spiritual guide.” Even when someone disappoints or hurts us, we’re invited to see them as teachers of compassion and love.

That idea points to something essential in the Buddhist tradition: we need others. We don’t exist apart from one another — everything we have, everything we are, depends on others. Our interdependence is real, and it’s not just physical — it’s emotional, spiritual, and relational.

A Visit to Haida Gwaii

One of the most meaningful parts of the trip was our visit to Haida Gwaii. We had been given permission to visit, and we spent time with members of the Haida Nation, who have lived in a deep, co-creative relationship with this land for thousands of years.

The Haida worldview is deeply spiritual, with a strong sense of interconnectedness between humans, animals, ancestors, and supernatural forces. Visiting requires a pledge - to respect all beings, ask permission, and accept responsibility for all I do.

We met Jim Hart, a Haida chief, elder, and artist. He spoke about ecosystem evolution in a way that blurred the lines between science and story. “The Spruce came here 600 years ago,” he said — not as a data point, but as a kind of introduction. The spruce was not just a plant, but a being with intention, agency, and memory.

In Haida tradition, salmon are considered creatures of the forest because, as part of their life cycle, they carry nutrients upstream, feeding the trees and sustaining the whole ecosystem. Life supports life. Everything depends on everything else.

Their awareness reflects what John Muir once said: “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.”

A Quiet Knowing

Being in Haida Gwaii and in the quiet of the Inside Passage stirred this sense of interconnectedness. It wasn’t just dramatic—more like a quiet knowing—something I’ve always carried but often forget in the noise of daily life. I was reminded that we are always in relationship with the land, with each other, and with something deeper that connects it all.

The feather wasn’t intended to be symbolic, but now it feels like a reminder. The totem poles we saw weren’t just beautiful — they were storytellers. They carried memory, wisdom, and meaning across generations.

An Invitation to Belong

Coming home, I’m trying to hold onto that sense of connection. The books I read, the people I met, and the land I moved through all pointed back to the same truth: we belong to one another. The spiritual path, I’m learning, often begins not with doing more, but with noticing more — listening, respecting, giving thanks, cherishing, and holding dear the relationships we’re already part of.

I present this as a gentle invitation—to myself and perhaps to you as well. Much of what matters starts with paying attention. Take a moment to slow down. Expand your awareness. Remind yourself that you are already part of something greater. You don’t need to travel to Alaska to discover this truth; it’s present wherever you are, within the relationships you already have and that support you.

(images mine)

[1] Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass

[2] Geshe Keslang Gyatso, The Eight Steps to Happiness: The Buddhist Way of Loving Kindness