Remembering Stephen Harrod Buhner

Today is the birthday of Stephen Harrod Buhner, who joined the ancestors last December. I am often not so good at remembering birthdays, but I never forgot his, because it is the day before mine.

Stephen taught me more than I can express about engaging the living world in ways rooted in the heart. This poem emerged from our correspondence in the final year of his life. It was my honor to share it with him then, and it feels right to share it with you all today as I remember and honor him:

It should have been

beneath Redwoods

or ancient Oaks

that you told me

of the Elder voices

whose mycelial tendrils

are the web

that dreamed the world

and how they came

to many species before us

and will come to many more

after we were gone,

the rhythmic, resonant voice

that taught me the ways

of incantation that quiet

the talking mind enough

for older things to be heard

should have echoed

through air redolent with

rain and moss and rich soil,

but I give thanks for the spores

carried on the wind

from your fruiting body

preparing to return

to the everything

that dreamed you

that I breathe in now

and hold close in my chest

that I might breathe them

to the ones who come after,

life continuing in the face

of insurmountable odds,

finding shape and voice

again and again and again.