Since the dawn of time, the origin of consciousness has questioned the human species. Where does it come from, how is it formed and, above all, who has it and who does not?
If some animals have passed the famous “mirror test” with flying colors, other species are completely incapable of submitting to it. This is particularly the case for plants, for which the question has become increasingly present in recent years.
How sensitive are plants to their environment?
Plants are very sensitive to the presence of other plants, animals and humans. They possess a soul embryo that allows them to communicate with the animal or human soul. They cannot suffer physically, but they can suffer morally. They feel very clearly the waves we send them, without even realizing it.
If these waves are beneficial, our plants thrive joyfully; if these waves are negative, they wither away. We must talk to them as we talk to animals. They do not, of course, understand the meaning of our words, but they feel a warm impulse directed towards them. Tenderness also plays here in a beneficial sense.
Does a plant suffer if it is cut?
Flowers and plants should not be cut. They don’t suffer, since they don’t have a nervous system, but their aura gradually tarnishes, so they are sad. It is like a slow death. There is no survival for the aura of the plants.
What happens when you cut a plant?
Poor cut plants, poor felled trees! How pitifully dull their aura becomes as life withdraws from them. It is a slow agony of their soul draft, which, no matter how draft it is, feels sadness as it has felt joy under the sunlight. Let us be good to the plants, let us surround them with tenderness and care. They will be grateful to us.
Can plants think?
Our plants know us very well. If we take good care of them, they love us very much. They have a draft of thought. We have to talk to them. They have an aura like all living beings and, from the Beyond, the disembodied see all these luminous auras, it is magnificent.
Mothering the plants
In the spirit of the Achuar, therefore, technical know-how is inseparable from the ability to create an intersubjective environment where regulated person-to-person relationships flourish: between the hunter, the animals and the spirits that control the game, and between the women, the plants in the garden and the mythical figure that gave birth to the cultivated species and continues to ensure their vitality to this day.
Far from being reduced to prosaic places providing food, the forest and the essences of culture constitute the theaters of a subtle sociability where, day after day, one comes to coax beings that only the diversity of appearances and the defect of language distinguish in truth from humans.
The forms of this sociability differ, however, depending on whether one is dealing with plants or animals. Masters of the gardens to which they devote a large part of their time, women address cultivated plants as if they were children, who should be led with a firm hand to maturity.
This mothering relationship is explicitly modeled on the guardianship that Nunkui, the spirit of the gardens, exercises over the plants she once created.
Men, on the other hand, consider game as a brother-in-law, an unstable and difficult relationship that requires mutual respect and circumspection. In fact, in-laws form the basis of political alliances, but are also the most immediate adversaries in vendetta wars.
The opposition between consanguinity and affinity, the two mutually exclusive categories that govern Achuar’s social classification and guide their relationships with others, is thus reflected in the prescribed behavior toward nonhumans. Blood relatives for women, in-laws for men, the beings of nature become true social partners.
Man is not alone in having a soul and a body nourished by the spirit. Plants have an etheric double that science has already begun to perceive. For the disembodied, it is very clear, plants, trees and flowers are surrounded by a luminous halo that comes from their etheric body.
The atoms of plant cells also have, like those of animal cells, a spiritual counterpart. Matter would not live without spirit; neither would vegetable matter.