As I clean up twigs and branches from a recently pruned bush, I note the abundance of violets in the backyard. Large heart shaped leaves and purple flowers dot the lawn, occupy space in the herb patch and form a wild little boundary between our yard and the neighbor’s yard.
I’m eyeing them. They’re eyeing me. They remind me that I love them and that I can make medicine from them. I play bashful by imagining myself getting sick because I harvested the wrong plant. They tell me to stop being so afraid of myself and my path.
I stop. Then I ponder the root of my fear. I think about how it felt to be separated from my brothers at a young age. I think about leaving New York. I remember being forced in a private school I resented being in and how I’ve spent so much time running away from that. Then I come back to the present. The violets are still staring at me; this time with some poison ivy.
Instead of holding on to the memory, I’ve held on to the fear of it happening all over again. I fear being ripped from loving community. I fear being suppressed, overwritten and forced into a way of being that ain’t me. I fear it so deeply that I keep myself basically invisible, isolated and defend my familial boundaries violently.
You know, it just might be time to do a little harvest, leave an offering of gratitude and make a little tea <3 We’ll see.
Take Precious Care
Update: In honor of the Taurus New Moon, I collected some violets with the intention of moving forward through my fear.