tulsi

ocimum africanum- warm, bright, expansively distinct

it is difficult to know where to begin with this dear friend.
tulsi- holy basil- was cornerstone of early ayurvedic devotees, referred to in ancient vedic texts as the embodiment of lakshmi.

tulsi offers teachings of wealth and abundance.
peacock energy.
an understanding that when we expose ourselves,
in our true nature,
each one of us is unique, a beautiful manifestation of source.
an understanding that the art of true wealth is seeing and being seen.
that when we see with clarity, the innate response is one of being in profound gratitude for the abundance that is invariably present.

tulsi is a beautiful expression of mercury and jupiter.
deeply tending the nervous system, a hallmark of mercury, specifically allowing for clear communication between mind and spirit.
and the jupitarian expansion that occurs when this transmission flows smoothly.

tender of lungs and the respiratory system.
encouraging unrestricted flow of air and experience.

there are many varietals of tulsi, this medicine is made from the temperate ocimum africanum.
as i walked the farm,
it grows among rows, with relations that also identify as basil,
on the hugelkultur bed,
among the nightshades.

in this particular medicine, it felt important to capture leaf and flower.
whole essence.
encouraging adaptation and continued growth of the plant.

in action, facilitating clear communication between “self and other”,
in nature, adaptogenic, adjusting its therapeutic offering to the information received from the body.
listening.

the scent is deeply familiar, shoulders relax, breath deepens.

may you breathe deeply the abundance of the present.
all ways.
always.

datura

datura inoxia- sharply intriguing

this was another meeting in liminal space.
a clear vision of traditional ceremony with this plant.
at that time, i was unfamiliar in the conscious mind.

my partner and i spoke about her at length. curiosity, a wondering of how and where we would meet.
when we pulled into the farm to cook for the first time, i looked out my window.
datura was growing just outside my door.
i had gone to the medicine, and the medicine had come to me.

she lines the inner circle, and greets the moon from rows, and along the south side of the garden.
presence.
unmistakable.

to be honest, i was a bit intimidated at first.
familiar with one of its compounds, bringing forward memories of my time as a critical care nurse, atropine.
in the body it signals fight or flight response of the sympathetic nervous system.
used strategically when the heart rate is too slow to effectively circulate the blood, waters, of the heart.
guiding us to the places where we feel most threatened- the illusion of protective anchors exposed to reveal the lifeline of truth.

there is much lore about her.
in many cases, fear mingles and colors conversation.

i am only able to speak of my experience, and it is an honor to share it.
a familiarity, reminiscent and inextricably intimate with grandmother.
illuminating.
flowers open at night, when harvested, dewy nectar gently washes my hands.
an exploration in.
to the hidden.
tender places protected by the sweet intentions of the mind, to keep one safe.

weeks later,
abundant presence in the desert,
guiding and lining our way.

an invitation and question.

dialogue about how information would be communicated.
weeks of inquiry.
old, familiar, story observed from this time and place.
story of who i am.
questions of “what is wrong with me”?
stories of feeling “other”.
guided into remembrance of another plant that illuminated the same question.
opportunity to experience the challenge of the mind, overwhelm, and heartache,
with her as a dear ally and friend.
piercing clarity.
enough to interrupt ingrained patterning.

and the weightlessness of the pause.
the gift of transformation when one begins to remember that “i am not wrong”.
”my” innate desires, hopes, dreams, needs, body,
is not wrong.

there is a fierceness to this teaching.
it touches everything.

a song of what blooms in the night.

this medicine is an offering of gratitude.
it is a deep honor to share her with you in this way.
curiosity as a practice and a teaching.
she delivers the most perfectly unique invitations to meet in presence.

may you know the honor of the night.
all ways.
always.

brugmansia

brugmansia, angels trumpet
nectar of earth and fire

i was near the beach in hilo, on the big island, when i stopped and smelled brugmansia for the first time.
hawaii has been an ongoing teaching in my life.
my saturn line runs through hilo.
i spent much time on the islands as a young girl, an unabashed loved affair with the people and ‘āina’, land.
in my early twenties, i lived on the island during a season that was a layered teaching of what it is to distrust innate instinct.
i returned with my partner the first time in exploration, following a call to deepen relationship with the land.
it was on this trip that i first encountered her scent.
standing under her tree, trumpets in open invitation.

we returned again, in the fall of 24, for my birthday.
i was acutely aware of her presence.
near the ocean, on the hillside.
potent, powerful.
that trip contained many lessons, illuminating attachments to
health, relationship, heirlooms, stability.
a dream- clear directive to visit kīlauea.
in my dream i was to go to the volcano, and offer obsidian from home.
visions of pele, the beingness of fire, carving completion through ties that bound me to trauma.
with six planets in sagittarius, the shiftings of fire is a life exploration.
in the dream, i placed the obsidian down and the volcano rose.

i smiled when i woke, with plans to visit pele, wondering what offering i would make as i had not brought obsidian.
i gasped and reached in my purse, pulling out a pouch shared with my daughter.
she has been in ongoing dialogue with stone ones from birth.
tucked in the bag was a piece of obsidian.

i walked down to the edge of the lava field, and placed the obsidian down.
wholly holy land.

a few weeks after we returned home,
kīlauea began to erupt.
her echoes filling the rivulets trauma had carved in my being.

mutable fire. lava. pele.
unfixed. devoid of rigidity.
understanding of path.
carving necessary lines and establishing boundary.

blooming as the fire of day reflects into the night.
not two.

unspeakable gratitude.

as the summer of 25 was fading, she began to show up in my cards.
an offer to make whatever medicine felt alive for the farm.
a request to make a hydrosol with brugmansia, beginning her bloom a few nights before we were to return.
smiling. of course. yes.
perfect. perfect. perfect.

may you make beloved relationship with the alchemy of fire.
all ways.
always.

vetiver

weathered, delicate earthy matrix of life
i left the farm to go for a walk, and when i returned my partner told me that we had been asked to make medicine with roots.

vetiver.
growing in a greenhouse, a portal.
warmth emanating.

revered in the vedas.
resilient to droughts, flooding.
fragrant roots of a grass.

cooling. calming.
balm for inflammation.
assisting in purification, and detoxification.
body. belly. skin. mind.

may you know the rooting of resilience.
all ways.
always.

japanese mugwort

artemisia princeps, japanese mugwort
direct, clear, floral, aromatic

there is a sweetness to this plant. growing vigorously, tall, queen of the garden.
the presence beckoning.

used in traditional practices of moxa, where mugwort is burned on or near the skin.
clearing, cleansing, drawing, and promoting circulation.
mugwort has deep history of medicinal use- in herbal smoke blends, as a smoke limpia, or cleansing, of mind, body, spirit, space.
it is a diuretic, encouraging elimination through the kidneys, one of the body’s mechanisms of filtration.

an understanding that when stagnancy, or accumulation is cleared,
unrestricted movement and flow is possible.

a profound teacher.
mugwort reaches liminal spaces, inviting lucid dreaming.
the practice of interaction in this space facilitates a clear view of the illusory veil between conscious and unconscious thought.

curiosity.
observing the plant’s growth and life cycle.
wonderings of what stories were told through the lens of leaf and flower.
an offering of both.
the flowers scent direct and pungent, the leaf a more gentle presentation.

an honor to walk with, among, and in and through.
gathered, distilled to essence, brought home and dried, sleeping with it hanging in our bedroom.

may your vision be clear.
all ways.
always.

lemon verbena

herbaceous, woody citrus
the smell reminds me of childhood.

i bend my face to the open jar,
’oh it is so sweet’.

in all of the ways.

distinct.

growing under elecampane that towers above.
generous.
tiny green leafed shoots.
the older stems are woody at the base,
increasing in softness, fresh green where it greets the sky.
including all when making this medicine.
wanting to capture its essence, each part.

my father was a physician’s assistant when i was a young girl,
pivoting, following his heart,
to honor lineage and family,
to bring to life the story of land.
terroir.
the art of turning grape to wine.
as process, each step informing the next,
illuminating self, relationship, and the story of the season.

he would travel to france each year,
bringing home soap.
a sensitivity to sense and scent.
informing his work.

i had to put my drugstore ‘perfume’ on when i was far away from the home.
if it followed me home,
he would sigh and say he could taste it.

one soap.
handmade.
the scent-
lemon verbena.

cleansing.
in the sweetest way.

may you have deep relationship with your unique sense.
all ways.
always.

huacatay

peruvian black mint.
sweetly humid, green and dense

when i was first introduced,
i assumed unfamiliarity.
vulnerability
that often accompanies interacting with the unknown.
inquiry,
exploration.

standing in the rows at the farm.
surrounded by its presence.

tonight, inhaling deeply-

transported to dark nights.
hot air on my skin,
echoes of the ocean greeting the moon,
the places where the land breaths.
the rhythmic pulse is palpable.

in thailand,
walking on a road surrounded by jungle,
ears and air filled with the noise of life within its depth.

precious.
land that is filled with wildness.
revolutionary curiosity.

āina is the world for land in hawaiian.

my daughter and i walked near the beach.
mesmerized by the growth of so many dear plant friends.
we spoke about the word āina.
she looked at me
’mom it sounds like vagina’.

we both paused.
she smiled, understanding what i put into words.
’yes, land, womb, the place that births life’.

we held hands and continued walking.

another trip.
bare skin on the hot black sand beach.
next to my parter.
vulnerability hard won.

years of inquiry
a knowing that to possess a womb is
profound strength
and
deep vulnerability.

the teachings of puma,
who walks through the night understanding how to move safely and gently through the darkness.

jungle.
āina.
seen and unseen.

may you know the power of vulnerability.
all ways,
always.

sweetgrass

green earth and honey
i was introduced to sweet grass during ceremony,
its presence distinct.
invitation in.
the darkness that illuminates.

i went to visit a dear friend ashley at the people’s apothecary,
she had sweetgrass, braided locally at sakari farm.
a joy and honor to burn it in our home.

in the summer of 24,
sweetgrass macerated in grapeseed oil lined my wrists.
leaning into relationship.

as i prepared for another surgery,
number seven.

i had inserted breast implants eleven years prior,
a step on the path of finding peace with the shape of my body.
i needed to have them replaced on the tenth year, the summer of my accident.
i postponed.
six surgeries in a little over a year, preparing for the next.
my knee surgeon was at the same hospital as my plastic surgeon.
i wondered if i could do both together.
they agreed, happy to help.
surgeries seven and eight.

choice.
to have my implants replaced
or removed.
to be honest, i loved them.
the look, shape, feel.
the comfort of conforming to a modeled ideal of the feminine body.
searching until an understanding that to keep them would be ok.
removal also an option.
nothing inherently wrong with either choice.

question.
what if?
what if i explored being in this world exactly as i am?
what would it be like to remove the unnatural padding of protection around my heart?
would i be catapulted back to familiar shame of my shape?

decision.
to trust.

i had both surgeries.
i have had some time to develop post surgery ritual.
i come home
shower
and stand naked in front of the mirror.

curious.
my partner entered the room as tears were streaming down my face.
present and wanting to understand.
our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror-
’i’ve had eight surgeries
i am almost forty
i just had my implants removed
and i have never felt more beautiful.’

i stood there gazing at my naked body in the mirror
awe
deep admiration
unfathomable gratitude
for her.
me.

each moment.
heartache
joy
confusion
despair
inspiration
that brought me to

this moment.
a weaving of past. present. future.

a teaching that the process is not imperfect,
my understanding of the process is incomplete.

hierochloe odorat, sweet grass
gifted from the home garden of dear friends
three strands
as above
so below
within
so without.

may your path weave sweetly.
all ways.
always.

klip dagga

warm maple, green fruit
it frames the circle,
dense growth below,
and its stalks towering above,
distinct height,
heads taller than me.

i had heard it spoken of,
but this was the introduction of hands to plant.

green straight stalk,
interspersed with whorls
each whorl containing petals that emerge on its upper rim,
through the season the petals descend.

the whorls are sharp,
boundary,
pricking fingers
pausing to reassess approach.

petals strong and delicate.

harvesting is a labor of love
requesting gentle touch and intention
if a handful of flowers is pulled
a breaking
bottom of flower remains in its pod.

but with patience
and care
flowers release
containing indescribably sweet juice.

teaching of boundary
what is left behind when one explores boundary with agenda
as a thing to push through
in pursuit of outcome

and the practice of gentle exploration
each movement mindful
pausing to assess the impact of movement on environment
curiously exploring the somatic experience of discomfort that informs
yes
and
no.

when boundary is
understood
honored
allowed

safety

flower gently releases
and the sweet nectar that accompanies this surrender.

fennel

foeniculum vulgare- warm, aromatic, anise

the smell is warm, rich, deep. 

it reminds me of winters in wisconsin. 

my grandparents home. 

thick blankets of snow, 

invariably obscure jazz radio playing in the background. 

grandma dot was a dancer, seamstress, and artist- crafting tales of lineage and intrigue in the kitchen. 

always with a scarf knotted around her neck, black ferragamo heels. 

gifting me her olive tone and petite frame.

my grandfather imported wine from europe, 

they gathered artists, creatives, free thinking professors for 

long, intentional, slow, carefully crafted dinner parties. 

soup, a main dish, salad and cheese.

invariably finished with dark chocolate. 

in the winter, 

i would stand by the gas stove with her and make pizzelles, 

slowly pouring batter into the iron press, 

covered in the patina of years of devotion. 

two flavors- traditional, and anise or fennel. 

cookies crafted by generations of familial hands, generously offered with chocolate and port. 

shared with loved ones. 

gathered around the warmth of the table,

adding depth to the narrative of the season. 

fennel, mercurial in nature,

through the lens of virgo. 

weaving story through the infinite gift of detail. 

a teaching of the importance of how. 

the how of tending. 

the gift of intention. 

and like those long, slow, winter evenings, 

gathered with friends, family, tribe,

fennel soothes the inflammation that arises during the inward movement of winter.

often paired with other warming spices-

the brilliance of mercurial dialogue, 

understanding the importance of community conversation as a digestive ally, assisting regulation of response as we move through experience, 

spinning protective threads of mercurial curiosity. 

distinct aroma, welcoming deep inhalation, 

comforting irritated lungs, 

as we breathe in, through, and with. 

may you gather wonder,

all ways, always. 

ginger

zingiber officinale- sweet, intriguing, spice

young, fresh root and leaf. 

a bit sweeter than its seasoned roots. 

my grandfather told me once that my optimism was a strength and weakness, cautioning against ungrounded assessment. 

serving in india during world war two-

he was a chemist, and metallurgist, 

tending these disciplines with equal measure of

science and art. 

familiar with heat, and the alchemy of fire. 

his relationship with my grandmother was fiery, 

passionate and i learned colorful language listening to their banter.

they danced through the full spectrum of temperature vacillation,

with such sweetness, 

truly a four season love. 

while she cooked,

he baked. 

his candied ginger scones,

a dissertation on balancing spice and sweet. 

unafraid to experience the fullness of life, 

mars’ fire, 

offering of alchemical heat, to warm and soothe.

strength and tending in equal measure. oung, fresh root and leaf. 

a bit sweeter than its seasoned roots. 

my grandfather told me once that my optimism was a strength and weakness, cautioning against ungrounded assessment. 

serving in india during world war two-

he was a chemist, and metallurgist, 

tending these disciplines with equal measure of

science and art. 

familiar with heat, and the alchemy of fire. 

his relationship with my grandmother was fiery, 

passionate and i learned colorful language listening to their banter.

they danced through the full spectrum of temperature vacillation,

with such sweetness, 

truly a four season love. 

while she cooked,

he baked. 

his candied ginger scones,

a dissertation on balancing spice and sweet. 

unafraid to experience the fullness of life, 

mars’ fire, 

offering of alchemical heat, to warm and soothe.

strength and tending in equal measure. 

pineapple sage

salvia elegens- playful, honey, bright

it sings. 

from the corner of the garden. 

tall and heady. 

bright red flowers bring a sharp brightening to a symphony of green cords. 

nectar sweet, with illuminating citrus. 

inviting

inquisitive

playful 

coaxing a smile from the rain. 

reminders of movement practices and the understanding that the ability to move upwards is directly linked to orientation of feet with earth. 

eucalyptus

eucalyptus- distinct, cleansing, cooling

palpable presence 

distinct

calling across great distances

beckoning home. 

crystal clear song 

familiar and yet each note

bright 

new 

making its way across my skin

drenching its cool dew 

pulling and anchoring into this 

body

moment

lungs stretch in response

inhale deepens

exhale easeful in its release

the shielding of truth 

presence 

as its vapors dissipate 

held by the wonder of what is revealed in their wake.