We just got a whole bunch of trays of new summer annuals—all planted nicely now, a feast for the eyes all season long. But even in their beauty, I felt a twinge of something deeper. As I placed them into the soil, I noticed how easy it is to treat them like decorations. Temporary pleasures. Something to enjoy—and then discard. That made me pause. These aren’t just ornaments. They’re alive. They’re beings.
We walk past plants every day—silent, unmoving (at least to our eyes), rooted in place. Trees, shrubs, flowers, weeds poking through sidewalk cracks. To many, plants are background. Decoration.
But what if that’s not the whole story? What if plants are not objects, but beings—full of intelligence, presence, and awareness? What if reconnecting with them isn’t a luxury, but a necessity?
I’ve always loved nature and admired the wisdom of trees without quite knowing why. I had read about the fungal networks underground. I learned how tomato plants and others can warn each other of danger. They can even change their chemistry to become less appealing to pests. But reading Brilliant Green by Stefano Mancuso reveals the scientific background for it.
- Plants have sensory awareness of their environment.
- They possess flexible, anticipatory response systems.
- They engage in community-level cooperation and defense.
This challenges the idea that plants are passive or unaware. Just because they lack a brain or nervous system doesn’t mean they’re without intelligence. As Brilliant Green shows, plants express intelligence in a different biological language—one that we’re only just beginning to understand.
Mancuso defines intelligence as the ability to solve problems. By this measure, plants are brilliant. They adjust growth patterns to find light, conserve water, and interact with others to increase resilience. They are constantly solving problems. In surprising ways:
Decentralized Information Processing
Plants don’t rely on a single organ like a brain. Instead, each root tip functions as a sensory and processing unit, allowing plants to respond to their environment with efficiency and adaptability. This decentralized system makes them remarkably resilient.
Sensory Capabilities
Plants can detect light, gravity, chemical gradients, and even sound vibrations. They orient their leaves for maximum light, shift roots toward moisture, and release compounds to repel predators. In many ways, their sensory world is richer than ours.
Communication and Memory
Plants also communicate through chemical signals. A tomato plant under attack releases volatile organic compounds to alert its neighbors. In response, those neighbors activate their defenses. Some studies even suggest plants have memory: they can “remember” past stress and adjust future responses accordingly.
So, how could we have gotten it so wrong, seeing plants as mere objects?
Mancuso delves into this in Brilliant Green, explaining that our misunderstanding stems largely from a human-centric perspective that values mobility, a central nervous system, and behavior that mimics our own. Because plants are sessile, silent (in frequencies we can hear), and lack familiar organs like brains or hearts, they’ve historically been dismissed as simple, passive life forms.
This philosophical bias has deep roots. From Aristotle to Descartes, Western thought has traditionally placed humans (and later, animals) above plants in a hierarchy of life. Plants were seen as the least evolved—soulless, mechanical, unfeeling. But this wasn’t always the case. In many indigenous cultures and ancient traditions, plants were revered as teachers, healers, and partners in the web of life. We once lived in close relationship with the green world. It’s only in recent centuries that we’ve distanced ourselves, both physically and spiritually.
Now, with advances in botany and plant neurobiology, that narrative is changing—and what’s emerging is a far richer, more accurate picture of plant life as dynamic, responsive, and intelligent in its own right.
These discoveries challenge our assumptions and invite a new way of seeing. What if we began to relate to plants not as scenery, but as companions? As teachers? As kin?
Many of us are profoundly disconnected from the living world. We might admire flowers or comment on trees, but rarely do we feel their presence. Rarely do we realize we’re in the company of ancient beings with something to say—if we would only slow down and listen.
Since I was a child, I guess out of curiosity and awe, I’ve collected things from nature—leaves, stones, feathers, seeds, pieces of wood. I also collect pretty boxes. Eventually, I began combining them, creating assemblage boxes that hold both the found objects and a few chosen words. In a recent series, I added small human figurines to these boxes to reflect our relationship with nature. They are not yet on my store. Contact me if you are interested. I will keep one back for you.
I want to invite you to reconnect with nature.
Here are a few practices to rekindle your relationship with the green world:
The One Plant Practice
- Choose a single plant you see regularly. Greet it each day. Notice something new. Over time, a relationship will emerge—subtle, but real.
Grow Something, Anything
- From basil in a window box to tomatoes in a garden, growing something teaches intimacy. You learn to listen, respond, and care. And the plant responds in return.
Name What You See
- Learning plant names is a simple act of reverence. “That tree” becomes oak. “That bush” becomes elderberry. With names come stories—and connection.
Sit in Stillness with the Green
- Find a patch of nature and sit. No phone. No music. Just be. Watch how the light shifts on leaves. How the breeze stirs petals. Let it speak.
“Plants are endowed with a refined sensitivity and a remarkable intelligence, which enable them to solve problems and communicate with the world around them.” — Brilliant Green
Reconnecting with plants is more than a pastime—it’s a way back to ourselves. In their quiet, they teach us to listen. In their rootedness, they show us how to stay grounded. And in their resilience, they show us how to thrive, even in uncertain times.
I’d like to know how you think about this, or what suggestions you have to get more in touch with nature. Let me know in the comments below…