Seminal blog

by wormwoodcrow

Three weeks after Ostara I call time-of-death on the triplets. Though I’m not sure you can call out the death of something that never showed signs of life in the first place. Three terra cotta flower pots, each housing its own smattering of seeds, continue to lie barren. Rosemary, sage, and lavender. I had been told they practically grew themselves. Apparently my thumb is blacker than it is pale and unaccustomed to toiling in the great outdoors: my backyard. Pity… I envy those who can beckon life from soil, bond with greenery, and otherwise enjoy a connection with their herbs. This seems especially important if you have intentions of a magical nature. A pinch of mugwort and a sprig of comfrey harvested from one’s own garden possess an air of authenticity seriously lacking from my order-by-mail herbal acquisitions.

Of course, one can be an all-powerful witch and never lay eyes on a trowel, but I’m not actively opposed to getting my hands a little dirty for my craft. I just don’t think plants like it when I touch them. My front yard follows city ordinance guidelines with military precision. Hence, it is bleak and uncreative. My backyard, on the other hand, is an ever-changing kaleidoscope of seasonal weeds, some resilient brush and a handful of stalwart fruit trees that appear to maintain themselves best with benevolent neglect from me. I can sit in my yard, listen to the birds, watch the bees, and be mercifully passed over by the creepy-crawlies of both land and air as long as I don’t touch anything. No pruning, no watering, no tilling, and naturally no pesticides. We have an understanding.

Starter plants would make more sense if I were to attempt a little in-home garden, but I fear my constitution too weak to watch fledgling plants wither in the pot despite my best efforts. Seeds which never germinate also never decay.

A seminal topic seemed appropriate for my seminal blog entry. Especially for this spring season. Seeds are interesting symbols. I think they’re most widely recognized as an expression of latent power yet to bloom. I tend to view them as thresholds; Species A stepping through the door away from the old body and into the new—continuation. The latent power is inherent, imbedded in the genetic material, proven time and again for generations. Amazing engineering, yes, but the real power comes from consciously recognizing the differences between one form and another or one phase and another. Old Tree to Seed to New Tree. We see seeds as symbols of latent power in the moment, but that particular example loses impact when Seed becomes New Tree, when power stops being latent and becomes manifest. Consciously meditating on the transitions, with the luxury of hindsight, better prepares us for handling changes in our lives that will inevitably transition us physically, mentally, emotionally, and/or spiritually with or without our consent.

Each moment of my life is a time when Old Me is being replaced by New Me, and that happens because multiple influences are effecting me, planting seeds of change. Some of these seeds of change I choose to cultivate, hoping for sweet fruit. Some seeds pop up like tenacious weeds, usually a result of uncontrolled behavioral or cognitive patterns that repeatedly resurface. Some seeds get blown in by the winds of the wider world. No man is an island.

So I view each seed as that moment where Old Me is making way for New Me. As an old tree will topple and revitalize the soil with its decay, so too will my Old Me provide the nutrients needed for New Me to flourish: memories, experiences, common sense, emotional stability, physical well-being, knowledge, etc. The seed IS New Me, certainly, but it is directly from Old Me. While New Me’s latent power may remain dormant a while, that seed was created because Old Me knew it’s time was coming to a close. Change is inevitable so it’s best to put the best of Old Me into the seed and hope New Me has a better go at it. The threshold was crossed with the making of that seed. And now knowing the seed is there, it’s time to consciously turn attention to it to see it has the best chance.

Three weeks ago on Ostara I found my flower pots still barren weeks after planting some seeds. Last week on my birthday I recognized myself cultivating seeds of connection and community that I started some months ago here online, first on Youtube. I’m not a particularly gregarious individual, and online social etiquette continues to mystify me, but I appreciate the online gardens others have cultivated for the world to see. So here’s my little terra cotta flower pot for the world to see. I don’t know if anything worthwhile will bloom from it, but it might be the season to get my hands dirty.