Wander Three: Mirror as Medicine

As this full flower moon rises, my invitation this week is to wander with the idea of mirror as medicine. What the heck do I mean by that? As you go outside, dropping into a space of opening your awareness, notice what is in the non-human world right now that calls your attention. What is blossoming, stilling, or otherwise. And sit with it. What does this creature or place that has called your attention mirror to you? What medicine is it offering you?

This is a question I have been taught to ask because I have learned that the plants are here to heal and offer themselves as needed—the bitter greens that come forth in the spring that cleanse our livers from winter stagnation. And I remember that we have evolved with and as part of nature—particularly the plants. My DNA is certainly primed to receive the benefits of a tomato. I am gazing at the tomato plants picked up at the farmers market yesterday, and I can already feel my mouth watering to anticipate the fruit that may come. Anticipating the yellow flowers. Though much of our culture runs on systems that seem to deny this fact: our destinies, humans, plants, our entire eco-system, are inextricably linked.

I share this experience for me recently below.

As I have been wandering these past weeks, the close-to-the-ground cheerful yellow flowers catch my attention. They freely offer themselves. The wild strawberries, the buttercups, dandelions and wild lettuces, the oxalis. They seem to be saying “stay close to the earth” and feel this good cheer and let the sunlight beam down on you. My earliest flower memory in fact, is my mother holding a buttercup under my chin and declaring “you like butter!” when its golden magic is reflected on my pale skin. 

I am aware too that within their ranks are the wild, the native, the transplants, the invasives. But here they all are sending their love of life and friendship. They seem to be offering their friendship to me.

The non-native plants have me reflecting on my non-native place on this land. Colonized by my ancestors, I wrestle with the knowledge that I am here and benefit from this colonization, this invasion of the home of the peoples indigenous here. There is medicine here too that I seek, though I am still finding my way towards it. Asking what amends I can offer to this land and its people. It is easy for me to fall into intense self-criticism and judgment as I spend time with the "invasive species"—acceptance must be part of the medicine I seek.

Certainly there is medicine in these yellow flowers so eagerly wanting to be seen. They remind me to be a friend to myself.

© Inder Coppola