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[personal profile] corvidmelodies
The work of my Initiate year in the Wildflower Tradition began in earnest a couple of weeks ago. As we began, each of us received two pots, in which we planted seeds for various herbs that would grow along with us. I immediately froze at the idea that I would be responsible for plants. I am great at taking care of animals. My two 2-year-old cats are lean, healthy, impossibly energetic, and thriving. My old, blind brown tabby will turn 16 this summer. But every plant I had before that day either failed to grow or died within the month. I had convinced myself that I had a black thumb. Swallowing hard, I vowed that I would do everything within my ability to put my fear aside and trust the process.

Trent, my troublemaking orange cat, loves to play Sir Isaac Newton, and his adopted sister Daria isn't much help in that arena either, so the plants couldn't live inside. I chose to place my pots, alongside my wife's pots, on an attractive wire display, right in view of both of our altars to ensure watering would happen. Remembering my tendency to overwater, I didn't give the plants any moisture for several days. When one of my hivemates got sprouts mere days later, she informed me that the plants needed water at least once a day, and that the soil needed to be damp. So I watered daily after that.

A week after planting, I still had no sprouts. Several others in my Hive had plants growing. I felt despondent. Before going out the door to teach my Sunday morning yoga class, I picked up each pot after watering it, and said to the seeds within, "Hi, I love you. Please grow."

That very afternoon, a tiny sprout poked its head out of the soil in one of my pots. My mind exploded in awe: I grew a thing! I'm actually not hopeless in the garden! Every time I turned around to look at the pot, the sprout within had changed. There were increasingly more and more sprouts each time I looked. Just three days later, the second pot began to sprout. And today, a mere week later, the third pot yielded its first sprout. The fourth pot hasn't sprouted yet, but the surface of the soil is starting to pucker, which I have learned heralds the coming of the first sprout.

I began to wonder what else I could grow. I began to research vermicomposting, and hope to start my first worm bin soon. This morning, after dreaming about the Black Madonna and discovering she likes flowers of all sorts, I bought a mini rose bush to grow, and I began a garden altar.

Earlier this year, an ethereal being of light told me in a dream that I needed to evict anyone who was living rent-free in my head. I have since learned that this also applies to ideas we have about ourselves that hold us back from really becoming all we can be. If we choose not to listen to the fearful negative voices, try a thing, and then see what happens, we may surprise ourselves. Removing the "can'ts" from the limitations we place on ourselves, the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and what limits us helps us grow both as human beings and magical beings.

Once we get rid of those old stories and toss them in the compost, we wind up with fertilizer for new skills and capabilities we never thought were possible. And from that, we evolve.

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Ravensong Phoenixfire

March 2016

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