Seasonal Support: Tending to What the Light Reveals

Through our long spring, a strange thing happened in the treatment space.

Slowly, but in quite a dedicated manner, all of the previously thriving plants began to die.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t have the greenest of thumbs (even for a herbalist).. but these plants had been steadfast in their vitality, for nearly six years, until now.

I ran through all the possible logical reasons why they were perishing - most of which based solely in a sense of personal blame. Had I watered too aggressively, or not enough? Did I give them too much of a tea that didn’t agree with them? Had the sun shifted position and now was causing them distress? Did they need repotting?

I diligently tried to correct the issue. Less water, new pots and soil, a routine watering schedule, less tea. Moving some home into different light. Nothing worked. One by one, they all faded away. You’ll notice one remaining soldier now, placed high on a shelf, not doing super well but hanging on. And the nub of another, sharing space now with a new plant.

The undercurrent intuition throughout this whole season for me was.. maybe it is just their time to go. Maybe it’s time for something new in this space, something needs to change.

Shortly following this saga, after I’d transitioned a few new plants into the space, I went through an unpleasant experience with a cyst that laid me out for a few days. During this period I had dreams, nightly, of my workspace. Some in which the space had been completely overturned, all the furniture was laying awry, chairs on sides, massage table flipped over, shelves knocked down. As I rushed in the dream to correct the layout, to put things right, I noticed a build up of dust, grime and dirt where the furniture had been disordered. I became filled with an urge to clean the space, to clear it of this hidden dust. In another I was in my workspace carrying containers that had faulty bottoms. Cracks that threatened to open completely, dumping the contents of the containers out the bottom. Inside the containers was either water, or soil.

Again, an intuitive undercurrent emerged of something needs to change, things are being shown that need clearing - tending to, push through at your consequence.

I’ve noticed through May/June a theme that seems afoot for many in my circles. Capacity has been reached. Former ways of holding ourselves in challenging times no longer work. Many examples of appropriate moments of stepping back in order to gain new perspective and allow capacity to return.

This season seems to be tasking many of us with sometimes startling clarity at what dust bunnies we’ve neglected behind metaphorical furniture, and where the containers with which we hold ourselves are maybe showing wear.

And - I wonder - like the plants in my office - a few metaphors of things that have simply reached their natural end, and possible conditions that are no longer favourable.

We humans tend to cling onto what’s familiar, and assign judgement and urgency when those familiar things are no longer predictable or certain. As such, supporting ourselves in seasons like this are opportunities to restructure ourselves and reach toward supports that hold us steady while the currents of life carry us onwards.

Plants I’ve been turning to lots include hibiscus, lemon balm, calendula, and nettle.

Hibiscus is known as an adrenal tonic, and is a perfect pairing for hot, pressurized summer seasons. It is cooling, aids us in finding dynamic structure within ourselves which allows stagnant or pent up energy to be creatively expressed.

LemonBalm gently holds us in presence with things that feel bound up in tension, uncertain and shocking. It’s that older wiser version of ourselves offering up witness to the younger, hurt, lost, scared parts of ourselves.

Calendula brings light to the places that rarely see the sun, and nettle takes up space and presence within the abandoned parts of our being - offering structure and accountability while bringing nourishment for tough times.

As a seasonal blend, these plant allies make a wonderfully hydrating and nourishing cool or warm tea. I often make a big pitcher infusion of equal parts of the above, long steeped overnight (pour hot water over, let sit in fridge or counter covered 6-10hrs), and pair with 1/4cup coconut water per cup of the above tea, squeezed lemon, sometimes electrolytes and sip this through my day.

As a contemplation - I’ve been really pulled into a few things in this season.

The first off is a practice I recently offered an entrepreneurs group during a somatic workshop. The context was around our understanding of capacity, which in this season I’ve been defining as the amount we can hold without compromising ourself.

I’m curious what comes up in your systems as you inquire of your body around the things, in this season, that you long for, crave even, and have been contemplating bringing in at some later date.. what excuses are you waiting for to give yourself permission to make those things non-negotiable now?

I hear often from people that they feel a sense of relief in the face of planned surgeries requiring set recovery time, or even after injuries that reroute their entire lives. While illness/injury don’t always need a metaphor attached to them, it’s interesting to consider how our bodies navigate needs, unconscious wants and actually find inroads to permission (by perceived force) our true desires, or our deeper needs. So why do we need to wait for the excuse of illness to take a day or a week for ourselves? Or the pressure of non-negotiable emergencies to rework our schedules? Shit happens sometimes, but maybe when it does we get evidence that what we previously believed was certain or true in one sense, is actually much less rigid than we thought.