Photo by @LaSweetWife
This change in season feels sacred. And while I wish I could fall into the comfort of a quilted pause, I walk through the falling leaves instead, being mindful to keep on pushing, to hanging on until the last little bit of green has faded into the fantastical beams of orange and yellow. I'll persevere through the last blooms until they finally give way to seed, ensuring the cycle of their medicine lives on until it's time to spring forth with life again.
In the shadow of the shortened sun, I reflect back on the lessons of my plant kin. While I came to them with a few preconceived notions, I absolutely allowed myself to keep an open mind with what I wanted plant, as the initial encouragement came from a group of women whose devotion and purpose bares no reflection of my own. And as I connected with my garden and the land around me,
I now know the hunger to pull knowledge from the ritual of rootwork far exceeds any desire to promote and present myself as a holistic commodity, bound and based in the soft pastels of supremacy and colonization.
As the days get shorter and the nights get longer, Gigi gifts me with a basket full of wisdom:
1. Tend to that which is already thriving
2. Even the most resilient flower likes a bit of attention
3. Let Mother Nature surprise you
4. The strongest medicine is free from fingerprints
5. The last one to bloom carries great virtue; patience
6. If it's not meant to be, leave it be
7. Ignoring thistles feeds the beast
8. Explore what's on the other side, you might just find yourself
As I get ready to prepare my first ancestral based collection, I know I'll be reminding myself on a daily basis to enjoy the process, pay close attention to vibration of my kin, both ancestral and plant based, and tap into their message with ease AND consistency. I'll turn to my California poppies for inspiration, acknowledging that their physical resilience and strength is packed with medicinal ease and repair.
Be strong with your boundaries,
and patient with your recovery,