Rose, is as magical as a flower can be

Mid-way through the month of July, it seemed fitting to look up into the clear blue sky and spot Hina, the Moon, in her waning holoku (late phases of the moon cycle), as I walked and enjoyed being present. It is summer here on this island in the Salish Sea. And, as I promised, I'm celebrating Pete's birthday all month-long as a way of committing to Pilina -- sticking together, valuing associations, and interconnection.

Pilina, is a value and much more sustaining and enduring 'economy' that has little to do with accumulation in the capitalistic sense, and a lot to do with counting on the essentials. Like 'a rose is a rose, is a rose.'

Grateful to be able to walk my neighborhood, I enjoyed the long route up and around the land that shares herself with us. A mightily entangled Wild Rose bush spoke sweetly to me. I could not smell her sweetness, what with my mask in place, but her voice was powerful nonetheless.

 

Without really 'thinking' the first of the large rose petals dropped into my hand. I suppose it was my invitation, and gift. Now that the 'ole moon phases had passed, it was a good time to gather medicine for the heart: rose. 

Many years ago when Pete and I were living in Kuli'ou'ou Valley in our family home on Dalene Way we had the company of my nephews. They were young boys then, the youngest not yet in kindergarten when we first arrived from Maui to restore and replace termite-riddled framework on my parents' Hick's home.

With a small marmalade jar filled with sweetly fragranced rose tincture settled into a cool dark tub, I remember how my nephew once said the smell of rose water reminded him of "Aunty Titi" (their name for me). It surprised me to hear that. I forgot that Rose Water commonly accompanied me where I went.

Somehow that memory and the gift of walking the neighborhood that is thousands of miles away from the place my nephew and I shared twenty or so years ago touches that heart space of pilina. The in between space of logic and mystery is large, and largely invisible.

Perhaps it is the Rose's way of pressing gently on a small space in my heart allowing me to 'smell' sweet things without fear. That would be a small, and powerful shift. The message of leo kaona (the voice of many meanings) freeing me of the steel-trapped response set up by my vigilante of a nose.

"Wild roses have five petals, each gently notched in the center and arranged in a pretty, open star with a cluster of stamen (the pollen-producing parts) in the center. Cultivated roses have petals in multiples of five. The five-pointed star is a pentagram, or pentacle, which is, of course, the symbol of magic. The rose, a blooming pentacle, is as magical as a flower can be." - Wild as a Rose, Susun Weed

And it was Rose who did birth a boy child on the morning of July 4th, in Sheboygan. They would name him Dean Peter, I would call him "Pete.

Thank you, Rose.

RELATED LINKS:

Community Herbalism in the age of COVID 19 with Emily Ruff & Susun Weed
(Pete and I just listened to this teleseminar. For $10 the conversation between the grandmother of modern herbal medicine/people medicine(Susun Weed) and a young and vibrant herbalist carrying on the legacy (Emily Ruff) is such hopeful and connecting community building. Another voice of pilina from the United States' very committed and heart-centered wild women of the plants. We HIGHLY RECOMMEND this 90 minute teleseminar!
ROSE is recommended by both women as one of the most important allies to support us all at this time of challenge, and any time.)

Five Petals of the Rose is my newest medicine story, being written live, and in segments throughout the month of August. Medicine stories have been my way to navigate life using myth or fantasy based on the everyday reality. For me, there must be at least two if not more versions of 'truth' because language and legacy -- words and characters rise from what is said and what is presumed to be said. Fantasy allows the art of storytelling to glow a different color. Go here for the Introduction and slip between the broad and thin lines and enjoy a tale with the scent of wild rose.