I once did a meditation with a mentor and friend from Phoenixville, PA. We journeyed into the watery worlds: where the essential elementals welcome perspective and discovery. I became the trunk of a great Ash—where all worlds connect, and the interweave is whole.
Meditations can be long or short...or fall anywhere in-between. For me, meditation has become a grounding healer and a source of guidance. Sometimes I am awakened toward new insights simply because of one herb, one element, one creature, figure or ancestor.
This particular journey was one of many truly profound ones: in the first, Magic Oma appeared...and so this site. On the second, I was gifted an herb (skullcap, I believe, that became a wild rose) and a gold ring. Recently, I was given rose hips by a women at the edge of the woods accompanied by a wolf.
The flowers and leaves are long gone (until they return in summer), but the berries, or hips, hold tight through high winds and winter storms. This, alone, fascinates me: hold tight. Hold on.
A couple of months ago, I learned of a Hopi myth encouraging one to "let go.—Those who hold onto the edge of the river, get beaten (ragged and torn). If they let go and flow with the waters, they flourish." So I consider the medicine: in medieval gardens, roses were grown as food and medicine—rather than for the essence, beauty and irresistible dye. They were used to cure illnesses including ear and tooth aches; complications of the stomach, intestines and lungs. Mostly, they are a symbol of love, inspiration, purity and devotion.
Roses have figured in history for thousands of years: they were prolific in Greek and Roman mythology. And, of course, the mid-12th century rosary...a "string of rose hips beads." Dried or fresh, roses were used in prayer and ritual.
I will take this as my key to embrace the strength, beauty and resilience of the rose (in it's many forms" in my daily meditations, celebrations and considerations. Read here for recipes.