Written for Brain, Mind, and Behavior (Psych C61), UC Berkeley, Spring 2020.

My leaves rustling slightly in the wind begin to awaken. They have sensed the faint precursor of the cyclic arrival of nourishment. I notice the simultaneous awakening of my numerous small tenants, their little bodies scuttling and flitting from branch to branch. I register their shrill cries and calls but pay little attention to them, being merely background chatter in my vast sensory network. I log onto the root network, checking in with my fellow companions. The rose bush has sent news of its upcoming flowering season, quite unnecessary seeing that the distinctive rose smell had begun to appear seven light cycles ago. The rose bush went on to request the network for additional resources, if they could be spared. I sent out instructions to dispatch nutrients from the stores in my roots, I had plenty to spare. A young family of shrubs, just recently having joined the network, sent out a warning of the advent of an intrepid group of caterpillars who were munching on their leaves. Having dealt with an umpteenth number of caterpillars over the seasons, I was quite nonchalant about the almost apocalyptic nature of the message. Ah, the shrubs had much growing to do. I nevertheless took the necessary precautions, informing the leaves to make themselves even more unpalatable. I also sent word to the winged creatures of the free lunch that was available. Communicating with them always proved to be difficult, their simple systems were incapable of perceiving most messages. Still, we usually were able to communicate about the essentials.

By now, my leaves were rapidly drinking in the light and I decided to open up the stomata and begin the process of creating food. I let the chemical cascades flow as they had been doing for the time since I had reached upwards from the ground. I did not need, and in fact could not, direct them, as they had become second nature. Yet, I could fine tune certain behaviours, choose paths of growth and creation and send and receive information. I had been successful in continuing my genetic lineage, having distributed thousands of seeds through the production of acorns. Generations of my inhabitants had helped me in achieving this and for that I was grateful. Of course, I had provided them a home to live in as well as sustenance. So it goes, the eternal barter of life.

Something different had been happening over the years. The seasons did not flow with their clockwork like regularity as they had done in the beginning. The air was composed differently, sometimes being smeared with smoke and dust that clogged my pores. It was getting harder and harder for my roots to acquire all the water I needed to sustain myself.

My companions reported similar experiences. Something about the balance of the Earth was shifting and we had no idea how to deal with it. Within all of us was contained eons of information on the workings of life but this was not something we knew about.