Being in the Presence of the Wild

This summer I am letting the garden go. I have a bit of cultivated space.  We planted oatstraw.

Right now within the fenced in spaces of our garden, there is wildness. 

There seems to be a way that a garden is supposed to be.  Here are the garden beds, here is the path through the garden.  I have had such a garden here and I loved it.  I worked very hard to remove the grasses, and to give room for the medicinal herbs, the vegetables and the flowers to grow. It was sweet and hard work and I loved it.

This year I am challenged physically to do all of this work.  I have enlisted my apprentices and hired folks to help me cultivate the space.  And because of various circumstances, it has not worked out to

cultivate, to give death to weeds and plant garden beds.

I still long for a cultivated garden, have visions of what it will be, dream of medicinal plants like Angelica and Meadowsweet, Mahonia and Mugwort, who will grace me with their presence.

There seems to be some friction within me.  A stopping place, where the cultivator in me starts to rebel and want to just be in the garden, to listen to what is there naturally, to see if a song will be given from an invisible place for the garden's rewilding.

Today I sat amongst the very tall grass, and looked out in all directions at my wild garden.  I saw grasses of so many varieties, I saw borage and lavender, cronewort and agrimony.  I saw goldenrod and motherwort, raspberries and cherries.  I saw an abundance of little apples. I saw blackberry vines.

The diversity of plant life in my sweet little garden is immense.  Everything is growing there because it wishes to do so.  Some things seems to be lacking it would seem.  Calendula can't be found, chamomile is gone I think, Chinese pinks have disappeared.  Chickweed?  Have you gone too?

As I sat in my chair, in the presence of happy wild plants, I started to sense that underneath my anxiety about the garden being so wild, not being weeded, what will people think?, who am I as an herbalist if I just let everything go?..........underneath this was a peaceful feeling of being in the presence of the wild.

I am wondering now where else I feel anxious because I am not what I "should" be and that what I am is calling me from under the layers of domesticated life. I am wondering what it would be like to rewild my life, to dance the dance I am given, to let my grasses grow, to allow the wasps into my spaces, to bow down to the wisdom that is being spoken to me in an unknown language from the tiny little plants that I step on in the garden path.

When I think of rewilding myself,  my muscles relax and I feel open to what will come next for me.

I send a blessing to our world that we may allow the true nature of our lives to be expressed, that we take time to listen to the little quiet voice that sings to us, underneath all the chatteriness of our minds.

I sing a blessing of rewilding for all of us looking more deeply for who we are.  

May it be in Beauty.