Did you know earthquakes can roar? Wait wait...we will come back to that. This was quite an exciting weekend. I try to not work on weekends, rather protect it as personal time (it is far too easy for me to work all of the time). However, with current research demands and equipment availability, working on the weekends has to happen. A nerdy aside, I am borrowing a fancy machine that captures gas exchange of plants and, in turn, can approximate photosynthesis rates. I have 81 plants to capture this data for. The type of data I am collecting (light response curves) takes about 10 minutes at each plant. I can only collect this data between 10am and 2pm (peak photosynthesis time), and I need to return the equipment in two weeks. All of that to say, I have a timeline crunch. So on Saturday, I found myself at one of my fieldsites, hanging out with two-year-old tree seedlings that we planted last year and my one-year-old dog (yes, a covid puppy). After taking a few measurements, I find myself in a flow. The mountainous scenery and the raucous ʻio (Hawaiian hawk) are incredible entertainment. While I love this natural entertainment as is, sometimes I mix it up and add additional pizzazz. I began listening Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants by Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer. Kolo (one-year-old pup) along side two-year-old 'iliahi (Hawaiian sandalwood, Santalum paniculatum) seedling with a LI-6800 (LI-COR) machine (mahalo to the Muir and Heyduk Labs!) clamped onto its leaf to capture leaf level gas exchange. I have read parts of this book before. Still, I have yet to read (or listen to) it in its entirety - even though I’ve had both the physical book and audiobook for over a year now. Finally, I began listening, a little nervous, a little excited. Not even a half-hour in, I found myself crying. The writing is beautiful, poetic, honest. The line that caught me was, “Since 1492, most here are immigrants as well, perhaps arriving on Ellis Island without even knowing that Turtle Island rested beneath their feet.” I think this line evoked such emotion because before starting this Ph.D. program two years ago, I would not have understood what this sentence meant. But now, I do. Or at least I am beginning to understand. And the meaning, to me, is heavy and personal. In this quote, Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer is sharing The Skywoman story, a Creation story from and of the lands where I was born and raised, the ancestral lands of the Haudenosaunee. I am a descendant of immigrants, a descendant of colonizers, born in Western New York. Growing up, I did learn a little bit about regional Indigenous culture. I was taught about Iroquois, only learning the Indigenous name, Haudenosaunee, after living in Hawaiʻi. In my family, there are both recent immigrants and older immigrants from several generations back. I feel pretty confident in saying when my relatives arrived at Ellis Island, they did not know that Turtle Island rested beneath their feet. Now, as their granddaughter/great granddaughter/great great granddaughter etc., I am pursuing a Ph.D. in Hawaiʻi focused on restoring native forests, and learning of the Indigenous culture of the land I was born and raised on. I am also learning of the Indigenous culture and language of the ʻāina where I currently live. Trying to live a pono life. To do pono research. At times, it can be overwhelming and feels earth-shattering (or earth-quaking if you will), but most of the time, this learning process is rejuvenating, refreshing, and healing. Then today, day two of weekend fieldwork, while conducting the same measurements, I felt my first earthquake. Auē, did I feel this earthquake. The ground shook so intensely I almost fell over. My dog was alarmed and started barking. As my heart rate quickened and flight, fight, or freeze instincts ramped up, I began processing the incredible sound. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before. Loud, deep, intense roaring rumbling from all around me. The lava rock shifting below my feet. The sound blended into the physical quaking. Turns out, it was a 6.2 magnitude earthquake with an epicenter not far away off the coast. I imagine I will experience and feel many more earthquakes (from the geologic physical earthquakes to personal epiphanies and research high/lows) while living on this young volcanic Hawaiian island. Perhaps earthquakes can be a metaphor for all of the learning I am experiencing. Often earthquakes are viewed with a negative connotation. Destructive in nature. Why not take the perspective that they are a natural phenomenon that can lead to constructive growth and new foundations? I hope and strive to continue to be present and open-minded so I can hear the roars of earthquakes. Over the next year, I intend to write about some of these quakes and various aspects of life as a graduate student plant scientist once a month. We will see where the stories go.
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AuthorI started this blog as part of my Botany In Action Fellowship through Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens Archives
June 2023
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