Sometimes the call from a plant is a multi-part journey over time, as elements come together to provide not only a fuller understanding of the medicine, but an impactful experience for me so that I can more fully understand and more effectively share the medicine.
Story:
I had always liked Lilacs, but the first spring I lived in Woodstock, I got giddily excited when they started to bloom, knowing it was short-lived and something to cherish. I craved their sweet presence, but had none easily accessible on my property or street to enjoy.
On a car ride with my then-boyfriend, every time we passed lilacs, I would practically squeal with excitement. He eventually pulled the car over so I could capture some to take home. (Thank you to whoever's lilacs those were!!)
I thoroughly enjoyed those lilacs. There was no whiff wasted as I put them in water and sniffed incessantly for the days they lasted indoors. I cherished each waft, witnessed and soaked up the joy that overcame my brain through my sense of smell.
I wanted to have and grow them so badly but didn't have access. Does this happen to you? Something calls to you and you want to be united with it fully, but you can only see it outside yourself or your experience? It's just out of reach, not quite have-able.
In the following year, my relationship ended, and I (necessarily) lost some of the things I was holding dearest, internally and externally. I went through a massive healing that year, releasing and building and reforming more than I thought possible. Through all of it, I learned how to actually find the things I was seeking within myself. (It sounds simple, but the process can be grueling, and for me it was difficult, painful, and ultimately so rewarding.)
Fast forward to the next spring when "lilac week" arrived. I had just moved the store to a new location. Imagine my explosion of joy when I saw the profoundly abundant bloom of lilacs in the back yard of the shop and all along the driveway. At least in my memory, I stood in the back yard, looking up, arms outstretched, spinning and taking in lilacs upon lilacs upon lilacs right there in my space.
That same lilac week, as I walked from my parked car to the front of my house, I saw a pop of gorgeous deep magenta. "WHAT is THAT?!" My jaw dropped, I gasped and ran to see what this gorgeous colorful blob was, sensing something special.
I ran towards it and saw that right outside my kitchen window was a beautifully blooming, tall, tree-like lilac bush! How did I miss this the previous year? Was it here? Did it bloom? I was shocked, and it felt like a magical appearance to me. This is one of at least four magical appearances of plants I've experienced in my work with essences, where the plant appears, as if from nowhere, in a place I would have noticed it, just when I've needed it.