Carbon Ball
Being in the presence of daldinia concentrica can put us back in touch with the mysteries at the heart of the carbon cycle.
‘To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour’
William Blake
In the palm of my hand it looks a little like a lump of coal. Its coal-like appearance is the source of several of the common names of daldinia concentrica: coal fungus, carbon ball, and King Alfred’s Cakes.
The latter originates from a story about the Anglo-Saxon King Alfred begging shelter from a peasant woman during his conflict with the Danes. She granted it on the condition he watch her cakes. Preoccupied with the conflict, Alfred allowed her cakes to burn, then scattered them throughout the woodlands to conceal the evidence.
Its Latin name daldinia means ‘round charcoal’ whilst concentrica refers to the concentric circles found within, like the growth rings of trees, if it is cut in twain.
The associations between daldinia concentrica and flammable carbons may be ancient indeed. This fungus has long been used in fire lighting. Once harvested and dried it takes a spark with ease and was used to transport fires as it burns for at least 20 minutes (and it can be used as a hand-warmer!).
This piece is black, shiny, smooth, incredibly light. I hold it like a rare treasure or relic from a museum. It seems strange yet familiar, homely and other, as if I’ve seen it before, in this life, in other lives.
Our guide tells us he has kept in his pocket for two years and since carrying it he has never suffered from cramp. One of its oldest names is cramp ball. Our ancestors have long carried it to ward off cramps.
This dark ball of magic becomes no less holy, no less mysterious, to me, when our guide shows us where he collected it from. Part way through Boilton Wood there is a rotting log and beneath it a shadowy gathering of daldinia concentrica. I realise I have seen it many times but never known its name.
With this knowledge I feel like a hole in me has been filled. An invisible cramp alleviated.
The next morning I think back to the spirit-journey I undertook for advice on how to recover the magic I had lost during six months of working in a supermarket and a longer period of spending far too much time at a screen as a result of trying to make a living from writing (I’ve recently left that job and started volunteering with the Lancashire Wildlife Trust - the guided walk was part of my induction).
I was given a stone with the image of a tree on it. I had no idea what it meant at the time. I smile when I think of daldinia concentrica with its stony appearance and tree-like circles within.
This confirms that I’ve made the right choice – that I’ve found the magic.
I can still feel it my hand – our connection carbon to carbon and spirit to spirit. From this small being with its concentric circles within I am led to wider reflections on how carbon forms the basic building blocks of soil, fungi, plants, trees, insects, animals, humans. How life would be impossible without the constant cycling of carbon as we grow and decay, of carbon dioxide expired by humans and taken in by trees, and, of course, the huge amounts of man-made emissions that have led to our climate crisis.
The common names we use for daldinia concentrica such as coal fungus and carbon ball are symptomatic of our tendency to equate carbon with the hydrocarbons that, when burned, release carbon dioxide. ‘Carbon’ is frequently used as short hand for harmful carbon dioxide such as in the term ‘carbon footprint’. We tend to forget its role as an essential element in the life cycle of our earth.
Being in the presence of daldinia concentrica can put us back in touch with the mysteries at the heart of the carbon cycle. Growth, decay, life, death, the exchange of carbon dioxide (fungi can respire both aerobically and anaerobically), combustion, and the release of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere.
This versatile (although inedible) little fungus occupies the shadows that escape the sight of capitalists. When capitalism is dead it will live on, bringing a little fire, a little magic, to the survivors.
Lorna Smithers
Lorna Smithers is a poet, author, editor, and conservation volunteer. As an awenydd and Brythonic polytheist she is devoted to Gwyn ap Nudd. She has published three books: Enchanting the Shadowlands, The Broken Cauldron, and Gatherer of Souls. She is a co-founder of Awen ac Awenydd and writes for Gods & Radicals. She blogs at From Peneverdant.