Mistletoe

This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.

Deep into winter, the oak trees’ bony branches appear unadorned, but for the small clouds of mistletoe, suspended on high. The plant that cues a kiss. No surprise it found entry into my newsletter on love!

Google mistletoe, and most hits warn it off as a predatory parasite of the beloved oak. We abhor the “P” word (parasite). But nature knows it not.

In this article in the Smithsonian Magazine (don’t worry, I come back how this relates to you in a minute), Community Ecologist David Watson makes a case that mistletoes are a “keystone species.” Rather than expounding on the dangers of mistletoe to individual trees, Watson’s work acknowledges that, “Fallen mistletoe leaves release nutrients into the forest floor that would otherwise remain locked within trees, and this generosity ripples through the food chain.” In addition, their nutrient-dense berries are eaten by birds, mammals, lizards, fish, and insects.

The healthy benefits of love are reaped by all when practiced in balance with community. Indeed, a few mistletoe plants will not absorb enough nutrients to hurt a tree, and it will not grow out of balance if all other conditions for the trees are optimal.

What would happen if we adjusted our lens to see whole systems rather than focusing on individuals? How would this viewpoint shift our understanding of love?