"One day he saw some country people very busy pulling up nettles; he looked at the heap of plants, uprooted, and already wilted, and said: 'This is dead; but it would be well if we knew how to put it to some use. When the nettle is young, the leaves make excellent greens; when it grows old it has filaments and fibres like hemp and flax. Cloth made from the nettle is worth as much as that made from hemp. Chopped up, the nettle is good for poultry; pounded, it is good for horned cattle. The seed of the nettle mixed with the fodder of animals gives a lustre to their skin; the root, mixed with salt, produces a beautiful yellow dye. It makes, however, excellent hay, as it can be cut twice in a season. And what does the nettle need? very little soil, no care, no culture; except that the seeds fall as fast as they ripen, and it is difficult to gather them; that is all. If we would take a little pains, the nettle would be useful; we neglect it, and it becomes harmful. Then we kill it. How much men are like the nettle!' After a short silence, he added: 'My friends, remember this, that there are no bad herbs, and no bad men, there are only bad cultivators.'"
Monsieur Madeleine (Jean Valjean), "Fantine" Ch III, from Les Miserables
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| Photo by Learningherbs.com |
The novel is full of these eloquent passages, these profound, teachable moments. I'm continually surprised by how enjoyable Les Miserables is to read, often slowing myself down to take it in to really let it steep, or, quite frankly, putting off making dinner because I can't put the book down. I am too busy savoring to be busy!
It's delightful to find Monsieur Madeleine's attention to detail; his deep thinking being directed at a common and rather annoying weed- which also happens to be extremely nutrient dense and useful in numerous ways.
But here he brings out a deeper truth about MEN! Humankind! It, like the weed/herb/poison/medicine is capable of a broad spectrum of experience, is a walking contradiction of possibilities.
I recently heard on a podcast about the penitentiary system in the United States, and how so many people from challenging backgrounds never receive any attention for mental illness, never get a mentor, never have anyone encourage them or show them a better way to live. They are uncultivated, cast away, and forgotten. It is bizarre to think that we dispose of badly behaved people like we do our trash. Just like our trash, people get moved and dumped.
In our society, if something is broken, we throw it away. If an institution has problems, we de-fund it. We don't reform it, fix it, or upgrade it. We toss it into the perceived abyss, just like we do "the trash."
This idea of tossing things away and, at least on some level believing that they have ceased to exist, is fascinating to me. What else can we toss? Our marriages? Our pregnancies? Our relationships? Our families? Our talents? Do they really cease to exist? Where do they go?
It's interesting to me that for most of my life, I've believed that my "trash" just magically disappeared into thin air.
Consider this: the root of so many of our environmental issues happens to be greed- a very human (or inhumane) vice. We do not care about the environment we depend on. But we depend on it! We do not care about that which is essential for our survival. We use weed-killers to both poison our environment and kill the plants that contain the medicine we need.
All of this has me wondering if there are things in my life that, rather than "tossing out", simply need a little more attention, connection, and cultivation.
Are there people in your life that you have written off? Have they disappeared from your sense of responsibility to cultivate, to serve, to be curious about, to find connection with? What if they are not actually in "the abyss" at all, but are in your ecosystem, and are utterly essential to your own survival?
In our culture, we're pressured to choose a side: Environment or People? The thing is, though, that both were created by God, for purpose, and to co-depend on one another. The more selfish and greedy we are, the more we trash our environment. The more selfish and greedy we are, the more we hurt ourselves and use one another- which, again, just hurts ourselves (spiritually, if nothing else).
There is so much history even in America of "throwing away" people in the margins: criminals, those with mental health challenges, homeless people, drug addicts, those people who just can't seem to get it together. The thing is, to regard someone as a modern-day leper might be even easier than you think. Who do you put into the "them" category? Who is unworthy of your compassion, sympathy, resources, attention? Who is beyond the pale for you?
In the end, Hugo points to a better way. If we love people, we have to (first notice, then) love nature, too. If we love nature, we have to (first notice, then) love people. Nature was meant to be tended and stewarded- gardens need gardeners! God created us in a context: planet Earth. It is His, just as we are His.
If we love ourselves, we have to love outside ourselves. We need each other, and we need the world God created for us to thrive in.
Both Victor Hugo's herbal lecture, and the Orthodox Church have taught me to broaden my scope of who and what qualifies as treasure. If I just pay attention, and strive to be more present to those around me, treasure (and nettle!) abounds.
What could happen if we do less tossing and more cultivating? Who knows? We just might discover ourselves to be rich, indeed.
Sincerely,
Natasha
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