Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants

Robin Wall Kimmerer, in her own voice on the audiobook, brings forth the lessons of sweetgrass and so much more, with compassion, erudition, and occasionally a tone that manages to embrace both anger and sadness. The main theme of the book advocates for regenerative reciprocity, a concept embodied by much of the natural world and echoed in the practices of many Indigenous peoples. Rather than Hardin's "Tragedy of the Commons", Kimmerer envisions an "Economy of the Commons", wherein "resources fundamental to our well-being...are commonly held rather than commodified." She balances her narrative in order to keep the vision in arms reach, or at least parts of it that we might endeavor to create.

A botanist and enrolled member of the Citizen show more Potawatomi Nation, Kimmerer braids together the teachings of plants and those of her ancestors to create a work that is reminiscent of the "poetic sensibility" of Loren Eiseley, and gives rise to the increasingly popular work of people like Peter Wohlleben. The book is packed with information about indigenous culture and plant life, in equal measure, and the main criticism I have is that it could use a stronger editorial hand in places. There are moments when a metaphor starts to wear a bit thin, losing a bit of its "oomph" through constant repetition. However, these moments (which seem to increase toward the end of the book) are minor inconveniences in the face of what Kimmerer accomplishes.

Take language, for example. Kimmerer boldly weaves in linguistics to support her main contentions. Indigenous language offers concepts that bring us nearer to a true understanding of the natural world versus science, which she calls "a language of distance" (mind you, one in which she is fluent and leverages in powerful ways). In the chapter "Learning the Grammar of Animacy" she writes of the Potawotami language (an Anishinaabe dialect), wherein a noun such as "bay" (wiikegama)-- a body of water in English--is actually a verb--more "to be a bay"-- because it is living, part of the natural world. This respect for and lack of objectification of natural elements is a key point of contention between colonialist thought and indigenous thought, and as Kimmerer shows, really creates tremendous knots in our ability to co-exist peacefully with our natural world.

"'To be a bay' holds the wonder than for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise--become a stream or an ocean or a waterfall--and there are verbs for that too."

She talks about the relationship between reciprocity and restoration and this idea that reciprocity is the real requirement for sustainability of our restorative efforts. It isn't the land that is damaged, she says, but the relationship we have to it. I think that is largely true, but it is a sound byte that doesn't get as thoroughly interrogated as it might.

Whether it is her own struggles with clearing pond scum so that her daughters might swim, embracing the multitudes contained in a strawberry, or illuminating the ecological ramifications of strategic and not-strategic harvesting, Kimmerer's book (first published in 2013) provides a path forward that may not save us at this juncture, but would undoubtedly make us better citizens of the planet. show less

Kimmerer cares a lot, and she makes you care too. She cares about storytelling, taking the time to tell them responsibly according to how she heard them. But she still expertly weaves them into analogies and allegories about the core values of the book: reciprocity, responsibility, respect, balance, and sustainability. She cares a lot about the land that we humans share with animals and plants. And her passion for shifting the logic of humans' relationship to the land and other non-human people comes through in every chapter. She clears away the brush of Western consumerist, capitalist, individualist logics and plants seeds of slow-growing but integral logics of community, balance, reconciliation, and respect for the gifts of the earth, show more animals, and plants.

She consistently reframed humans as the youngest species on earth (and thus the most humble), in a move that overturns Western assumptions that humans are the most advanced. This reframing took a few chapters to really sink in for me, but once I understood, I think I really have started to think differently. I even started to thank my cat for teaching me to take breaks and rest, and that it's ok to draw boundaries; rather than paternalistically "envy" her for "having the time" to be lazy while I must work, work, work. Theres no balance with that frame of mind, and clearly I have a lot to learn from my feline teacher.

The stories in the book not only provide examples of her values in action, but they aren't those exceptional tales of exceptional people. Granted, some are, but many are about Kimmerer and her students, Kimmerer and her children, and her local town all just trying to live responsibly in the world, trying to give back to the earth for all it gives them, even in times of precarity and ecological destruction. She doesn't tell anyone what to do, for she doesn't believe in defining people's gifts and responsibilities for them. But she makes you want to figure that out. She makes you want to do something. She makes it seem possible to change.

Again, this book may take a while to really germinate in the minds of those not raised with indigenous ways of living and thinking. But keep at it, because it's a powerful alternative to the ways of living and thinking that settlers gave us.

And if nothing else, I really want to start a garden now and also pick wild strawberries. show less

Whew. It took me a while to get through this, but so worth it. I listened to the audiobook. Her voice is so soothing, which I loved, except when I listened while driving I wanted to go to sleep. Ha. I also struggled during some of the sections that were a little more science-y than others - for those types of nonfiction it is harder for me to consume via audiobook. But overall, just wow. A new way to look at the world, life, plants, religion, hope for the earth, climate change. Also the relationship, roles and responsibilities of humans to the earth, to nature, to forests and plants and life. One of those books that has made me look at the world in a whole new way. Just beautiful, uplifting, powerful.

Reciprocity.
Learn from plants.
Take show more only what is given (plants teach us about consent!)
Take no more than half.
Honor the land.
Get your hands in the dirt.
The earth has never, ever "given" us coal, oil, natural gas. It has always been taken.
Private property is a construct. show less

Really spectacular— I appreciated the melding of traditional beliefs and current botany. It really illustrates for me how the two complement each other, and I am grateful that Kimmerer is willing to share her thoughts. I also really deeply appreciated that the book is so hopeful — it shows a way forward into healing for both culture and planet, if only we are willing to listen and act. I also adore the perspective that humans are a necessary part of the ecosystem and that we can give back to plants. Lots to think on in here.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation and botanist, reflects on our relationship with the earth, indigenous teaching about our interactions with the environment, what has broken and what might heal. In lovely prose and with astute observations, her essays challenge us to rethink mainstream American culture and imagine another way of treating everyone - human, animal, plant - on earth.

The subtitle "Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants" made me imagine a science-y book that explained how indigenous folklore meshed with how plants worked. That's not at all what this book is. Don't get me wrong, there is science (the essay on lichens especially taught me a lot), and perhaps because it was the antithesis show more of an academic paper I probably learned more than I realize. What Kimmerer does is gently challenge us to reevaluate our relationship with the natural world. In one essay, she discusses the differences in creation narratives and its effect on how we treat the earth. In another, she talks about how she cleaned out a pond, restoring an ecosystem but also making trade-offs, knowing that she was killing organisms to get there. There's a lot to mull over or discuss with a book club. show less

Braiding Sweetgrass is by far the best book I've read this year. Maybe ever. I knew, halfway through, that it was going to be one of my favorite books; my copy has a plethora of little post-it notes, noting sentences that struck me with their lyricism and astute scientific knowledge. It is a book written by both the heart and the mind: the author has a Ph.D. in environmental ecology and is a devoted member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. The way she balances two world views is striking, and is done with grace and sensitivity.

In the book, Kimmerer stresses the concept of "reciprocity" - the giving and taking of the earth, and the mindfulness it engenders. Indeed, she presents a humanity as a connection between gratitude and the show more capacity for reciprocity, both necessary for the healing and abundance of the land. Here she presents the braid of sweetgrass with three strands that weave together the indigenous ways of knowledge, scientific knowledge, and the story of an Anishinabekwe scientist. I actually wonder if the sweetgrass braid can be interpreted as a metaphor for the author's unique heritage - the scientist, the the Native American culture and the spiritualism which lends itself quietly to the narrative flow of living mindfully.

Whether it's weaving baskets or helping salamanders cross the road or leading an expedition of college students, Kimmerer is a storyteller, a scribe, a leader, a follower but what is most plain is her unshakable love of the land. Braiding Sweetgrass is reminiscent of Annie Dillard's Pilgrim and Tinker Creek, but Wall Kimmerer's voice is distinctly her own.

If you have any interest in biology, nature, Native culture, or plant life, animals and trees and lakes and rivers, pick this book up. It's simply amazing. show less

[Braiding Sweetgrass] by [[Robin Wall Kimmerer]]

Braiding Sweetgrass is a collection of essays exploring Indigenous relationships with plants and the earth. Kimmerer is a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation and also a botanist who teaches at traditional American universities. She explores the differences in how her Indigenous culture and the typical American culture teaches interaction with their environments. This book flipped a lot of narrative for me; even from our earliest origin stories, our cultures have a different relationship with the world. The Christian origin story of being shut out of the garden of Eden and of having the earth provided for our comfort and use is a huge contrast with the reciprocity involved in most show more Indigenous origin stories. My writing of that is hugely over-simplified, so please don't take offense. There isn't any culture-bashing here, even when the author takes a hard look at choices we've made as a nation. Kimmerer takes 385 pages to provide context and examples of how we can all treat our earth better - benefitting the plants and animals here and also benefitting ourselves in a reciprocal relationship. She has many essays on specific plants and how, seemingly by design, our responsible use can benefit both the plant and the human. I learned so much about sweetgrass, maples, strawberries, leeks, and many more native plants.

I highlighted hundreds of passages in this book. Some books change your point of view and thinking for the better and this one definitely verbalized a perspective that I was ready to hear. I loved Kimmerer's sentiment that everyone is Indigenous to some land. As a nation of immigrants in the U.S. and Canada (her focus areas) we should strive to create an indigenous mindset to our current land by learning about our national landscape and how we can live in a reciprocal relationship with the mutual environment that we share with plants and animals.

Certainly, there aren't easy answers here. We are a transient population. It's hard to connect with the land when you move through multiple diverse regions. It's hard to connect with the environment when you live removed from green spaces. It's hard to connect with plants when they are endangered from our actions. I think it's best to look at this book as a way to inspire a desire to connect with our environment. By spending time in it, I think most people will naturally want to protect it. I will say that one of the few highlights of this pandemic has been the incredible amount of time I've spent in our local woods behind our house with my two young boys. We've spent countless hours hiking through barely navigable paths, splashing in our creek, scrambling over rocks, looking at mushrooms and weird bugs. And they've spent countless more hours playing - masked :-) - with a small group of friends creating a whole world back in the woods. I feel lucky that we ended up living in an area that is both incredibly suburban and beautifully wooded.

I highly recommend reading this book. It's a slow book, a challenging book, and an uncomfortable book at times, but it really challenged my perspective in a good way and the ideas will definitely now make up a part of my worldview.

Original publication date: 2015
Author’s nationality: Citizen Potawatami Nation
Original language: English
Length: 385 pages
Rating: 4.5 stars
Format/where I acquired the book: library kindle
Why I read this: came up in searching for books on Indigenous culture show less