Fungi Friday: Collective Effervescence
Branching mycelial cords among mature Apioperdon pyriforme, commonly known as pear-shaped puffball. (Photo by Maureen Fellinger)
By Maureen Fellinger
Nearly my whole life, I assumed that something was wrong with my brain when I found myself feeling emotional over what some may consider insignificant or mundane moments, such as a crowd singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” during the 7th inning stretch at a Cincinnati Reds game or noticing the quiet hum of a busy coffee shop, full of clacking keyboards and warm conversation. These communal moments have always felt so oddly beautiful to me, and I could never easily describe why.
I felt a sense of relief when I discovered the term “collective effervescence.” Philosopher Émile Durkheim introduced this sociological concept in the early 1900s. In his writings, he explains that collective effervescence is experienced when a group comes together and resonates with the same thought or participates in the same action, which creates an electrifying joy for the group. He often used this term to describe how religious practices are essential in affirming people’s sense of identity and how joining together in ritual has a powerful effect on the physiological and emotional experiences of individuals.
The COVID pandemic forced us all to make shifts in our lives, and unfortunately, finding these moments of communal joy became harder as we all became more isolated. These past few years, I have felt such a deep desire to seek out collective effervescence. I want to be a part of the energy that occurs when we unite for a sense of purpose, belonging, and growth. No moment of this sort of experience is too small or should go unnoticed– realize that joy can be felt during your next all-staff meeting or on a treadmill next to a line of strangers at the gym. It is such a human experience to want to feel connected to something bigger than yourself.
Perhaps it isn’t just a human experience. While fungi are not capable of the same emotions we have, scientific evidence suggests that fungi can operate as individuals, can make decisions, and even have short-term memory. I am currently participating in a program led by the Cincinnati Nature Center through an OSU extension to become an Ohio Certified Volunteer Naturalist. During a lecture on soil, the instructor touched on mycelial fungi and soil aggregates. A specific fact has stuck with me from this lesson: 90% of plant families have mycorrhizal associations. Mycorrhizae are beneficial fungi that grow in association with plant roots. In an exchange with photosynthesized sugar from the plants, the fungal strands supply the plant with water and nutrients from the soil. Fungi truly enhance the vast majority of plants’ performance and survival. Fungi are interconnected with life.
The next time you go for a walk on the land, I encourage you to pause and consider the collective effervescence in nature, specifically in the realm of fungi. There is so much life on the land that we don’t necessarily see with the naked eye. Take a pinch of some rich, forest soil, and know that there are potentially one billion organisms between your fingertips. The soil is alive, and as you stand on it, a vast network of mycelium creates a system that connects individual plants to transfer carbon, nitrogen, and other minerals. Through this natural system, trees are linked to each other and can share nutrients and water.
The web of life exchanges that occur below our feet are an integral part of the connectivity and community of life on the land. The mycelium gathers together to aid in the joy that is the life and beauty that we see above land. The trees and plants grow with such delight, thanks to the collective effort of the mycelial network. The bubbling up and over of life, human and plant alike, is truly rooted in the experience of collective effervescence.
*Maureen Fellinger is Agraria’s Education Administrator & Media Specialist.