Where are your roots?
I have vivid memories of walking up Sisar Canyon Trail as a kid, with my elementary school class. The smell of chaparral sharp in my nostrils and the myriad of interesting plants around me. My fourth grade teacher, was an artist, a musician, and a lover of botany. He filled our young minds with the names and characteristics of these local plants as we walked together on class field trips.
Those moments were the the ones I came to know sage, poison oak, monkey flower, and laurel sumac. They were forever emblazoned on my heart.
Every sensory and visual memory I carry is somehow woven with the presence of plant life; from my grandmother's enviable backyard flower gardens and arrangements, to picking fresh elderberries from the tree by the creek, to gathering random acorns, dandelions, and cheese mallows for my various games of imagination.
I remember as a child, wishing I could live in a vast forest, like the Boxcar Children; picking fresh blackberries and swimming in the cool creek. In my youth, I didn't yet have an appreciation for the complex and abundant wonders of the chaparral and oak forest ecosystems. I was always drawn in, but it would take several decades for me to pinpoint the reason that tugged at the corner of my soul and whispered soft poetry to my heart.
Nearly four decades later; I can look back and marvel at how the land that raised me waited patiently for me to grow into the understanding of just how deep this connection was that held me.
Everything was right there, just waiting for me to discover it. Sure, I did not have grandparents who could teach me to grind mugwort into a paste to relieve the irritation of poison oak; but my father did teach me how to identify elderberry and when to enjoy the rich ripe berries. I did not have an aunt or uncle to teach me the pain relieving gifts of poppy and sagebrush; but I did have a mother who taught me to appreciate all flowers for their beauty and wonder; giving a space of reverence on her kitchen table to seasonal bouquets every week.
I did not have familial elders with a lineage of plant and land wisdom; but I did have a fourth grade teacher who shared his love of plants and many school presentations from Chumash elder Julie Tumamait-Stenslie.
As I approach my fortieth birthday; I sit here with a smile as I remember that all the most vivid and rich memories of my life were filled with botanical brilliance and the wisdom of those who either still had a deep connection to the land or those who were trying in their own small ways every day to reconnect to it.
I had a lifetime of being right in the middle of all of it and it still took decades to realize the plants were speaking to me.
My roots are here; they always have been, but I didn't always know it. There are people I know who moved here just a handful of years ago who have a far deeper understanding of this land and its inhabitants than I might ever hope to; and there are also people who have been here twice as long as me who barely open their eyes to see it.
Finding your roots in herbal practice isn't about where you were born or what lineage of herbal wisdom was handed down to you; it is about reclaiming some kind of connection wherever you happen to be. It is about honoring the traditions (however small they may be) you did inherit and weaving them into the practices and wisdom you choose to invite in now. It is about reverence for those who held greater lineages for generations and respect for the plants themselves as our teachers and guides.
Sometimes, all we need is a gentle invitation into that space of reconnection; so, please consider this my personal invite to join myself and Jessy Raspiller for Emergence; a half day retreat in and around some of the places that were a part of my own plant connection story.
We will share a guided plant walk, spaces for meditation and reflection, as well as an educational session around simple plant medicine making.
If you are curious or would like to join us, please visit VentureWell for all the details:
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