Episode Transcript
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(00:05):
Have you ever been held by something you
didn't even know was holding you?
Deep in the old growth forests,
beneath layers of leaf litter and soil, ancient
trees are quietly doing just that.
These are the mother trees, the oldest,
tallest,
strongest trees in the forest.
And they don't just grow tall, they give
(00:27):
constantly,
intelligently,
invisibly.
They sense when others are in need, not
just in the moments of crisis,
but every day.
They share resources,
adjust to changes,
and strengthen the entire forest community through an
underground fungal network that allows them to communicate
(00:48):
and collaborate.
This quiet, generous care is what scientists now
call the mother tree theory.
The idea that older trees act as nurturing
hubs in their ecosystems,
sustaining the resilience of the whole forest over
time. And with Mother's Day approaching, it feels
like the perfect moment to reflect on this
(01:09):
kind of nurturing,
the kind that's often unseen
yet deeply felt.
Not everyone has a mother in their life,
yet many of us have someone who has
mothered us,
someone whose quiet care, presence, and wisdom still
ripple through our days.
And like mother trees,
some of those nurturers may no longer be
(01:29):
here physically.
Yet their legacy,
their messages,
and their strength continues to support us. Today
on Resilience Gone Wild, we're exploring what mother
trees can teach us about human resilience,
about care that's consistent,
connection that's intelligent and unseen,
and how nurturing others is one of the
(01:50):
deepest forms of strength.
I'm Jessica Morgenthal, and every week, we tap
into the wild wisdom of nature
to build lives
and systems
where people, purpose, and planet all thrive.
Let's step into the forest.
(02:17):
Imagine yourself stepping into an old growth forest,
a place that has never been logged or
cleared,
where time moves slowly and life grows in
layers.
The canopy towers high above you, so dense
it softens the sunlight into a living mosaic.
Giant trees,
some hundreds of years old, stand like quiet
(02:40):
elders.
Their trunks are thick and furrowed,
their bark textured with age and memory.
Beneath them, the forest floor is soft with
fallen needles and moss,
and a hush blankets the air as if
the entire forest is listening.
And beneath your feet,
(03:01):
a secret network is stirring. It's called the
wood wide web, a living underground system of
thread like fungi
called mycorrhizae
that connects the roots of nearly every tree.
Through this network, trees share nutrients,
water, and chemical messages,
allowing the forest to communicate and adapt as
one living system. At the heart of this
(03:22):
network are the mother trees,
the largest, oldest, and most connected trees.
A mother tree isn't assigned.
She emerges over time, shaped by age, wisdom,
and the many lives intertwined with her own.
Not every tree becomes a mother tree, but
many have the potential
if they live long enough and grow deeply
(03:43):
connected. And here's something equally powerful. A mother
tree doesn't give endlessly.
She knows when to conserve energy for herself.
She prioritizes her own health because sustaining her
strength allows her to continue supporting the forest.
It's a kind of tree wisdom that echoes
what we say on airplanes.
Put your own oxygen mask on first.
(04:04):
She sustains herself so she can continue to
sustain the whole.
When a younger tree is struggling,
too shaded,
too dry,
too small to survive on its own, she
sends carbon, nitrogen, and water.
When pests or drought threaten,
she shares chemical warning signals,
helping nearby trees prepare their defenses. And she
(04:25):
doesn't just help her kin.
Fur shares with birch.
Pine supports hemlock.
This is interdependence across species, a strategy of
strength through connection.
These discoveries come from groundbreaking work by doctor
Suzanne Simard,
(04:47):
who mapped these invisible flows and proved that
forests are not just collections of trees.
They are responsive,
intelligent ecosystems.
Trees learn.
Trees remember.
Trees adapt and make choices
together.
And nowhere is this more visible than an
old growth forest.
(05:08):
These ecosystems
are biodiversity
treasure troves.
They offer shade, stability,
carbon storage,
and homes for everything from fungi and mosses
to owls, salamanders,
bears, and birdsong.
Mother trees shape all of that. And even
in death, they don't disappear.
They give again.
(05:29):
A fallen mother tree becomes a nurse log,
a cradle of life.
Seedlings root in her softened bark. Beetles burrow.
Mushrooms bloom. Owls nest. Her strength becomes a
new beginning.
She is soil and shelter,
memory and momentum.
She is the forest's past
(05:49):
and its future.
And just like that, the forest reminds us,
resilience doesn't rise alone. It spreads. It listens.
It gives.
Sometimes the greatest strength is the quiet kind,
woven beneath the surface, holding the whole system
together. So what does that mean for us?
(06:15):
Resilience is often portrayed as bold, loud,
defiant.
But in the forest
and in life, some of the strongest resilience
is quiet,
unseen, steady,
intelligent.
That's what Mother Tree's model. They don't shout
their importance.
They don't ask for recognition.
They just show up season after season, year
(06:38):
after year,
offering what they have to help others grow,
and they do it with care, not just
with generosity, but with wisdom.
Mother trees sense when nearby saplings are struggling.
They measure what they can spare.
They decide where to send the resources, carbon,
water, and nutrients,
and when to hold back in order to
(06:59):
stay strong.
Their giving is not endless. It's intentional.
It's guided by awareness,
by connection, by the health of the whole.
It's the kind of resilience we see in
mothers and in anyone who mothers,
in the neighbor who quietly leaves soup on
the doorstep,
in the teacher who stays after class to
make sure a student feels seen,
(07:20):
in the colleague who checks in, not just
when it's convenient, but when it matters, in
those who tend to others not for applause,
but because they understand the system and choose
to strengthen it.
This is legacy in motion
because like mother trees, those who nurture others
today shape the ecosystem of tomorrow.
(07:40):
They make the system stronger,
more connected, more alive.
This is a different kind of resilience, not
just bouncing back, but holding space, offering care,
planting strength on purpose, even when no one
sees it happening.
And that's what we honor this week. The
mothering presence in our lives, whatever form it
(08:02):
takes, and the quiet, steady, intelligent resilience that
helps whole forests thrive.
Let that sink in for a moment.
That kind of care,
the kind that's quiet, consistent,
intentional
doesn't always get noticed. It's not flashy. It
doesn't trend.
(08:23):
But it's the kind that holds people together,
that holds systems together. And in our own
lives,
we have the same opportunity
to notice,
to respond,
to offer something steady, not because it's asked
for, but because we're paying attention.
If you'd like to grow your own resilience
in this way, to build your ability to
care with intention
(08:44):
without depleting yourself
and to strengthen the people and systems around
you, you might wanna try one of these
simple nature inspired practices.
They're in the show notes in case you
wanna come back to them later or share
them with a friend. The first is something
I called root and reach.
You take a blank page and draw a
line down the center. On one side, write
(09:05):
what you want to build up in yourself
this week.
Maybe it's
energy, calm,
creativity,
confidence, whatever helps you feel strong and grounded.
That's your root.
On the other side, write where you wanna
offer care,
someone or something that could use your presence,
your attention, or your encouragement.
(09:25):
That's your reach.
Then look for a small action that connects
the two.
Maybe your root is calm and your reach
is a colleague who's been really overwhelmed.
Your action could be starting your day with
a quiet walk
so you show up steady
before checking in with them.
Maybe your root is creativity
(09:46):
and your reach is a child or friend
you haven't connected with in a while. You
might send them a voice memo with a
silly drawing idea or a memory that made
you smile.
This tool helps you give care that's thoughtful
and sustainable,
just like a mother tree, staying rooted and
reaching with intention.
Another option is something called circle of care
(10:06):
mapping.
You draw three circles like ripples in a
pond.
In the center, put yourself.
In the next circle, add the people, animals,
causes, or communities you're closely connected to.
And in the outer ring, include those you
care about from a distance,
maybe your local park, a neighbor you don't
know well, or a group of people or
(10:27):
species you want to support. Then take a
moment to notice
where is care most needed right now,
and where could a small action from you
create a ripple?
Maybe you text someone in your inner circle
who always gives but rarely receives.
Maybe you pick up trash in that park
you love but rarely tend to. Maybe you
speak up for a cause you've quietly supported
(10:49):
from afar.
This practice helps widen your awareness.
And when we widen our awareness, we become
more resilient,
not just for ourselves, but for our communities.
And finally, you might try legacy seeds.
You simply might ask yourself, what do I
want to strengthen or protect for the future?
(11:10):
Maybe it's kindness.
Maybe it's confidence.
Maybe it's clean air or trust in your
team or creativity in your family.
Then plant a seed.
It could be starting a new habit like
composting or reading together before bed.
It could be reaching out to someone younger
and offering mentorship.
It could even be writing a note to
(11:30):
someone who mothered you in some way and
letting them know their care mattered.
This one helps you build resilience by shifting
your urgency to legacy,
from reaction to intention.
It reminds us that even the smallest act
can take root in someone else's life.
All three of these practices are there for
(11:50):
you to explore in the show notes. Try
one this week or revisit one you've done
before.
And if someone comes to mind while you're
listening, someone who's been holding things together quietly
or someone who could use a little care,
I hope you'll share this episode with them.
Or better yet, invite them to try one
of these practices with you
because resilience grows when we tend it together.
(12:13):
So this week, ask yourself gently,
what kind of care am I offering,
and where is it most needed right now?
Let those questions guide you.
Let that be enough.
(12:34):
And now let's return to the trees because
the real life mother trees, the ones with
bark and roots, need our care too.
They live in old growth forests,
ecosystems shaped by centuries held together by deep
connection and quiet generosity.
These forests aren't just beautiful, they're essential.
(12:54):
They stabilize our climate. They clean our water.
They support biodiversity.
They store carbon.
They offer resilience we can't afford to lose.
And yet, we're losing them fast.
Old growth forests are being logged,
fragmented,
and pushed to the edge by fire and
drought.
(13:15):
And when they go, we lose more than
trees. We lose biodiversity,
entire webs of life.
We lose resilience the ability of the system
to bounce back from disruption.
We lose carbon storage, which helps buffer us
from climate extremes.
We lose water regulation,
soil health, and the deep knowledge these forests
(13:35):
carry.
And we lose connection
to each other, to wisdom, and to the
land itself.
We've seen what happens when we ignore the
role of these forests in our lives.
Look at the devastating wildfires in California and
across the West.
Many of these fires burned hotter and longer
because of how we disrupted natural cycles.
(13:57):
Suppressing fire, clearing old growth, breaking ancient relationships
in the land, we tried to manage the
system without fully understanding it, and the consequences
ripple far beyond the forest.
This isn't about saving nature out there. It's
about recognizing that we are part of the
system.
The health of the forest is tied to
(14:18):
the health of our air, our water,
our climate, our future.
So we care for mother trees not out
of guilt or heroism,
but because when we protect them, we protect
ourselves.
That's what living in partnership means.
So here's your invitation. Go find one.
Seek out the elders in your local ecosystem.
(14:39):
It might be a temperate forest with massive
old oaks or pines,
a cypress swamp where ancient trees rise from
still water,
a coastal mangrove,
its roots tangled with life,
or even a towering tree in a city
park
quietly holding decades of wind and witness
connected to others in ways you may not
(15:01):
yet see.
Wherever you are, there's an old tree nearby
with something to teach you.
When you find one, pause.
Feel the bark beneath your hand.
Lean gently against the trunk.
Smell the layers of time held in the
moss.
Taste the air,
damp, alive, ancient.
(15:22):
Listen to the leaves above and the ground
beneath you. And then ask,
what stories might this tree be holding?
What systems is it quietly supporting even now?
Let that awareness change how you show up.
And if you're moved to do more, start
by learning.
Support the organizations working to protect old growth
(15:42):
forests.
Groups like Ancient Forest Alliance,
Rainforest Action Network,
your local land trust, or indigenous led conservation
efforts near you.
Speak up when policy decisions threaten what's left.
And be thoughtful about what you consume, from
fast furniture to paper products.
Because these trees don't just hold up the
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forest,
they help hold up life as we know
it.
And when we live in partnership,
not domination,
we begin to make decisions that are better
for all of us.
That's resilience.
That's connection.
That's the system we're part of. So let
that settle for a moment. We're not separate
from nature. We're shaped by it, held by
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it, and responsible for it.
Every choice we make, what we protect, what
we consume,
how we care
ripples through the same system we depend on.
(16:47):
If this episode moved you, please share it
to honor those who nurture others often without
being seen. For the mother trees, for the
people in your life who offer that kind
of steady, intelligent care.
And if you'd like to help Resilience Gone
Wild continue to grow, please take a moment
to leave a rating and review.
Follow the show notes wherever you listen, and
(17:08):
join the conversation on social media.
We're now on LinkedIn,
Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube, and we'd love to
hear from you.
You can also catch up on our blog
and newsletter at resiliencegonewild.com,
where you'll find countless more stories about the
resilience we can learn from nature,
flora,
fauna,
fungi, and natural phenomenon.
(17:30):
And while you're there, you can sign up
for the newsletter to have those stories and
a little wild wisdom
delivered straight to your inbox.
You'll find the full list of resources and
resilience tools from this episode in the show
notes.
Next week, we'll be joined by a special
guest to explore the wonders and magnificence
of mother trees
and mothers
with even more depth and awe.
(17:52):
Wishing you and all the nurtures in your
life a joyful and meaningful Mother's Day. Until
next time, stay rooted,
stay curious, and stay wild.
This has been a production of BLI Studios
produced by me, Kai. Follow along with our
other BLI produced shows at balancinglife'sissues.com/podcast-BLI.
(18:18):
Got an idea for the show? Email me,
Kai, at balancing life's issues dot com. And
don't forget to stay in touch with your
host, Jessica, at jessica at win win win
mindset dot com. Anything else to add, Miles?