Water and the plants which live in it have played a founding role in religion and
belief. Life emerges from water, mud and fertile silt to appear on a reflecting
surface often scattered with flowers. This foundation myth, adopted by the
Buddhists, finds an echo in science which also sees water as the likely medium
for the birth of life.
There has been a link between plants and spirituality throughout history
and in all civilisations. Plants act as messengers, symbols, channels for
good or evil, they make manifest our relation to the spiritual and to the
divine. They are at the origin of beliefs, they feature in prayers and worship
and both poly- and monotheist pagan ceremonies. Their medicinal or
deadly powers reinforce the symbolic beliefs which underlie our use of
them. These powers and the technical and aesthetic complexity of plants,
coupled with their longevity, resistance and adaptation, are often difficult to
explain scientifically simply by evolution. This may be why they offer
unparalleled spiritual enlightenment. Their roles in the landscape and the
perfect functional beauty of wild nature have often reinforced and
transcended the sense of a founding divine presence behind the creative
forces of nature.
Genesis mentions the myth, and ancient Egyptian rites refer to the primordial
role of marshes. Much later, Buddhism sees the centre of a lotus (Nelumbo
nucifera, Nelumbonaceae) as representing the achievement of enlightenment.
But this lotus should not be confused with its Egyptian cousin called,
inappropriately, the blue lotus (Nymphaea caerulea, Nymphaeaceae) offered to
Egyptian gods by the priests. Aside from the plants in the water and on the
banks, a water body enhances the view or a landscape by its reflections and
movement but also through the mystical and spiritual power which emanates
from it.
We have set out to tell you about the place of plants in our world in relation
to the divine, sacred and spiritual in whatever form or of whatever
importance. We do this with respect even if certain beliefs and rites offend
our social, scientific and ethnobotanical sensitivities. Our account is not
exhaustive and undoubtedly contains assumptions and choices based on
our own encounters and voyages.
The line between science and parascience fluctuates through the history
and geography of our civilisations and societies. This is clear with regard to
the spiritual component of our lives. Fear of life, or of death, introduces
distortions, obsessions and neuroses which often obscure a scientific
explanation of ritual and its primarily utilitarian function.
Plantes & spiritualites
Have you ever exclaimed (or perhaps one of your children has) “It’s
unbelievably beautiful!” when surveying a magnificent landscape, an
unforgettable view, a flowering desert or a well-earned panorama after
a difficult climb (it’s even more beautiful if you have had to work hard
to see it!).
Beauty is admittedly subjective but “unbelievably beautiful” refers to
something improbable, unimaginable, which goes beyond our
expectations. Carried away by our feelings in a moment of pure joy,
we may touch on the idea of the supernatural, of the inexplicable, the
impossible transcended by nature, a vital and creative power which
goes beyond our Cartesian and scientific references.
1
On another level and being more introspective, scientific observations
such as orchid “surevolution”, the Fibonacci sequence in the perfect
architecture of a cactus, maize plants which warn neighbours when a
parasite arrives, co-evolution between a complex flower and its
specific pollinator, fascinate us and make us reflect on plants’
evolutionary perfection.
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Who does what? Who decides what? Is there a supreme architect
behind all this or is it the result of chance? Are millions of years of
evolution and co-evolution enough to explain such marvels, such
perfection? If creationism explains nothing (or nearly) does
Darwinian evolution have a convincing explanation for everything?
Does it explain the extra touch of stunning beauty in that landscape,
the perfection of a plant-insect relationship, the brilliant colours of the
lyrebird and of the reticulated giraffe?
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Plantes & spiritualites
The design of a Japanese garden (or Zen or dry garden) follows three
principles: reproduction of nature in miniature, symbolism, and a
simplified representation of landscape. Miniaturisation aims to show
a variety of landscapes (mountains, lakes, rivers, sea) in a small space.
As well as a reduction in size, it also involves a reduction in
complexity. Symbolism, inherited from the religious function of the
first gardens, helps to simplify too. Landscape composition in a Zen
garden uses distant elements, outside the garden itself (buildings, hills,
sea), working with the space constraints to place the garden in a larger
context.
There has been a link between plants and spirituality throughout history
and in all civilisations. Plants act as messengers, symbols, channels for
good or evil, they make manifest our relation to the spiritual and to the
divine. They are at the origin of beliefs, they feature in prayers and worship
and both poly- and monotheist pagan ceremonies. Their medicinal or
deadly powers reinforce the symbolic beliefs which underlie our use of
them. These powers and the technical and aesthetic complexity of plants,
coupled with their longevity, resistance and adaptation, are often difficult to
explain scientifically simply by evolution. This may be why they offer
unparalleled spiritual enlightenment. Their roles in the landscape and the
perfect functional beauty of wild nature have often reinforced and
transcended the sense of a founding divine presence behind the creative
forces of nature.
1
Amongst the most frequently seen symbols is a large isolated rock
representing Mount Shumisen, Sumeru (Buddhism) or Mount Hôrai
(Taoism), the mountain of the immortals. Two islands or two rocks
side by side, one low-lying and flat the other raised, represent a
tortoise and a crane which themselves signify longevity and happiness.
Groups of rocks can represent the Buddha and his disciples. The Zen
garden came from China where it was a place of meditation and
philosophical contemplation for monks. Most mountain monasteries
used rocks to embellish their places of meditation which were often
small because of the nature of the terrain.
We have set out to tell you about the place of plants in our world in relation
to the divine, sacred and spiritual in whatever form or of whatever
importance. We do this with respect even if certain beliefs and rites offend
our social, scientific and ethnobotanical sensitivities. Our account is not
exhaustive and undoubtedly contains assumptions and choices based on
our own encounters and voyages.
The line between science and parascience fluctuates through the history 2
and geography of our civilisations and societies. This is clear with regard to
the spiritual component of our lives. Fear of life, or of death, introduces
distortions, obsessions and neuroses which often obscure a scientific
explanation of ritual and its primarily utilitarian function.
Chan or “silent meditation” is a form of Buddhism which originated in
China in the 6th century. It values meditation or internal “illumination”. When the original chan movement became known in Korea
under the name of Sôn, then in Japan under the name of Zen between
the 7th and 9th centuries, the practice of using rocks and water
surfaces was also adopted. In Japan, temple gardens (Tei or Niwa)
were adorned with designs relating to the local Shinto religion. Stone
lanterns (Ishi Doro), votive tablets dedicated to the gods of nature
(Kami) and porticos (Tori) which typified and differentiated them
from other gardens, were used.
There has been a link between plants and spirituality throughout history
and in all civilisations. Plants act as messengers, symbols, channels for
good or evil, they make manifest our relation to the spiritual and to the
divine. They are at the origin of beliefs, they feature in prayers and worship
and both poly- and monotheist pagan ceremonies. Their medicinal or
deadly powers reinforce the symbolic beliefs which underlie our use of
them. These powers and the technical and aesthetic complexity of plants,
coupled with their longevity, resistance and adaptation, are often difficult to
explain scientifically simply by evolution. This may be why they offer
unparalleled spiritual enlightenment. Their roles in the landscape and the
perfect functional beauty of wild nature have often reinforced and
transcended the sense of a founding divine presence behind the creative
forces of nature.
Zen gardens are descended from a specific philosophical stance in
which man does not dominate nature but is a harmonious part of it.
The garden, as a quintessentially human creation, does not oppose
nature but integrates with it on a smaller more human scale. It is
natural, miniature and perfect. The artistry of its composition is less
important than its symbolic image as a sacred resting place. The
garden is therefore where we honour the gods of nature in much the
same way as ancestral household gods are honoured at the family
shrine. It is above all a microcosm that attracts favourable natural
energies which gradually take up residence there. Its size is not
important because a simple stone can be transformed into a mountain
if called for by the design. Gardens thus play an essential role in the
space between sacred and profane, visible and invisible, virtual and
factual, tangible and spiritual.
We have set out to tell you about the place of plants in our world in relation
to the divine, sacred and spiritual in whatever form or of whatever
importance. We do this with respect even if certain beliefs and rites offend
our social, scientific and ethnobotanical sensitivities. Our account is not
exhaustive and undoubtedly contains assumptions and choices based on
our own encounters and voyages.
The line between science and parascience fluctuates through the history
and geography of our civilisations and societies. This is clear with regard to
the spiritual component of our lives. Fear of life, or of death, introduces
distortions, obsessions and neuroses which often obscure a scientific
explanation of ritual and its primarily utilitarian function.