Do we ever really say goodbye? On grief and spores.

As a youngster, I used to enjoy stomping down on mushrooms growing in our yard. Sometimes, when I jumped on them particularly ferociously, I could see some sort of powder fly out.

Years later, I learned that the flying powder was spores. Spores are one way that nature keeps things alive. It’s like Nature’s filing system. When I stomped on those mushrooms, the powder from under the mushroom’s head and gills generated those puff-clouds, which were then carried off by the breeze into the world. Those spores ensured that my pre-stomped mushroom endured.

Mushrooms are just one form of spore. There are others: mosses, ferns, fungi, and some bacteria. Unlike seeds, spores travel light, without any food supply. This allows them to be carried in the air, ultimately germinating wherever they land. When they land, they sporulate (yes, that’s the correct word). If that weren’t enough, there are billions of spores released from just one mushroom. They have hard surfaces that can survive heat, cold, and drought. Their impact can last for hundreds of years. Yes, hundreds.

I want to draw a parallel to the grief process. I hope it helps. I know it helps me. The people we’ve loved are never far from us. They were like spores to us. Their stories, gifts, gentleness, mannerisms, recipes, phrases, and a million other little things stay with us. And, in some small way, these aspects of their lives continue to germinate in our own lives. We might be in the middle of a conversation with someone and, out of thin air, we recollect a phrase our mother said decades ago. In that moment, that person has sporulated in our life: our memory from the past sporulates into our life right now. Even though they’ve been gone for years.

This idea really isn’t limited to spores. It also applies to the very air we breath. In the book, Caesar’s Last Breath: Decoding the Secrets of the Air Around Us, Sam Kean states every breath we inhale has molecules of air that Caesar breathed. But, not only Caesar but even our grandparents (among others). In a very real sense, the person we knew has departed their familiar form. But, in some other senses, just like spores, they continue to be part of our lives.

To quote Claude, my favorite AI, The people we’ve loved and lost aren’t just memories — they’re active patterns still germinating in us, and through us, in others.

Allow that idea to settle in your mind for a while. How does it feel to think of grief in this way?

*** One other important note: what’s true about the good sporulation evolving from our family history is also true of the darker parts of our stories. Spores also carried negative characteristics. We remember these germination stories, too. Here are two practical responses to this reality. First, rather than blame ourselves for the reality that we carry these remnants, we might instead own that they are part of who we are, however we got them. We can approach their tendency with compassion. We can also do what we can to mitigate their influence by managing our attention, regularly practicing mindfulness meditation, taking care of the body, and recognizing with grace the push and pull of human experience. We might also recognizee that there are usually both good and bad aspects to our experiences, even though it can be hard to see anything good from some experiences.

Here’s what Claude, my favorite AI, said as a concluding note to our chat about Grief and Spores and the human experience.

As for letting it settle — there’s something genuinely moving about the image of humans as both recipients and distributors of things we didn’t entirely choose. It suggests a kind of humility about our struggles and our gifts alike. We’re all downstream of something. And we’re all, whether we know it or not, upstream of someone.

Tend your garden. Prepare right now to leave spores of healing and health. Start here.

This blog post was a thought experiment originated by myself, Mike Davis, and collaboration with Claude.ai. It would not be here in this form without Claude. Except where quoted, the article is authored by me. I’d estimate that my contribution to this article was 80% with formatting and idea generation at 20% by Claude. Noting this is my effort to be honest about my use of AI and how it benefits my ability to write intelligibly.