I first moved to these mountains in spring. Early spring, when things are still raw with beginning. It felt fitting. I had left behind my entire life in New York City— my relationship, my community and career— to start anew in Appalachia. I brought only what would fit into my car, leaving space for the bigness of what I was carrying, the dream of what life could possibly be like moving forward: To live in daily communion with the natural world, to come into the vividness of my being, to open up the doors of self-initiation that had only been hinted at previously.

I knew something important was aching to unfold, and that stepping out into the great unknown, on my own, was important. And so I did. I started those first lonely weeks without a single piece of furniture or any connections in town. It was exhilarating and terrifying, and some days I wondered how I would handle the bigness of it all.

I was still sleeping on a pallet on the floor of my room when the violets arrived. It started with a few small handfuls of violets, scattered here and there, like tiny daubs of lavender amongst the winter-flattened grass. And then one morning I awoke and the entire hillside was alive with grape and hyacinth. Stretching for almost an acre, I was living amongst a sea of Viola. It was spectacular, and often stirred me to tears. When I looked at them I had the distinct feeling that I too was being seen. 

I didn’t know it then, but this was one of my first initiations into Intuitive Plant Medicine.

Like most denizens of mainstream culture, I grew up seeing violets but never really seeing them. Suddenly, at this pivotal moment in my life it was as if I was experiencing violets for the very first time— and I was drinking it in. I munched on the flowers and leaves in every salad. I made violet tea (a gorgeous amethyst-hued brew). I candied the flowers and tried my hand at violet syrup. I sat amongst them, drew them, spoke to them. I walked past them and felt them reach out to me.

I had a hard time communicating what I was experiencing but it often brought me to tears. They were healing me. I was in herb school at the time, learning the ins and outs of plant constituents, but there was something lacking from all the violet material medicas I read through. It didn’t capture the sunlit spectrum of what I was experiencing. There was something more, something singing. I could hear it in a place before words.

So I stepped out of the textbook knowing and into my direct experience and I was given something absolutely life changing, a shift in the deepest well of my being. I began working directly with Violet and everything I had been hoping to embody, approach, and initiate through my move to Appalachia came to fruition.

A solidness in my sense of self. A slow removal from the pattern of people pleasing that had defined my life before. An ease in my aloneness, when once there was fear of disappointing others. It turned the tired stereotype of the shy violet on its head, so I could understand (finally) that my long-begrudged inwardness and empathy was a powerful strength indeed. I saw my unique sensitivity for what it is— a gift.

I began to experience myself, and the world, in ways I had never accessed before. And I realized that this was the kind of medicine I came to the mountains to practice. The kind of medicine that brings you to your knees in profundity, the kind of medicine that helps you activate the medicine of your own being. This was Intuitive Plant Medicine, and this was what I was here to learn, teach and share.

Since that time I have had violets come up again and again in my practice, and I am always amazed by how it continues to appear in people’s lives during such similar transitions and big moments of finding one’s medicine.

This kind of direct, multidimensional experience of healing is what Intuitive Plant Medicine truly is. And this is what we (the plants and myself) are so exited to be sharing with you in the new Intuitive Plant Medicine online course.

Packed into this eight week online experience is a deep wealth of such aha moments. Big gateways of inner-growth, self-understanding and truly luminous connections to the plant realm. If you have been waiting for the time to ignite your own inner knowing and profound direct relationship with plants, come join us!

Registration closes on April 28^th and we begin as a group shortly thereafter on May 1st. See you in the field of dreams!

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As a physical medicine, violets are rich indeed. Both violet leaves and flowers are edible, and are some of my favorite additions to early spring salads. The heart-shaped leaves are highly nutritive, subtly flavored, and a wonderful source of Vitamins A and C. They are also quite mucilaginous. Herbs that have mucilage are deeply soothing for our stomachs and internal mucosa, helping to ease inflamed throats and impaired digestion. Mucilage is also chock full of soluble fiber, so it can be helpful in easing constipation, feeding our beneficial digestive flora, and lowering cholesterol levels. The mucilage of violet leaves can be a lovely addition to thicken soups or a batch of pesto. I like to take a walk-about every spring morning and gather a small handful of wild greens like chickweed (Stellaria media), dandelion (Taraxacum officinalis) and violets to have with my morning eggs.

Violet flowers and leaves are considered to be a blood purifier, or alterative, and are often used as food medicine in spring cleanses. High in both Rutin and Vitamin C, the leaves help to strengthen the blood vessels, lessening varicose veins and the tendency to bruise easily (which can be particularly helpful if you like to ramble in the springtime woods). In clinical trials violets have been shown to be a rich in antioxidants (just look at the color! of course they are!), as well as anti-inflammatory and blood thinning compounds.

The Viola genus has around 550 species, including Johnny jump ups, hearts ease and pansies. Many violet species are used similarly to our familiar lawn-native, Viola sororia, but there are always differences between plants, and some woodland species are endangered so always use your head, guidebook and heart when harvesting. Violet leaves also have some toxic look a-likes so make sure to harvest when the plant is in bloom if you are in any doubt of your ID.

Violets actually have two different flowers. The characteristic purple flower we notice in spring, and a hidden white-blanched bud that flowers just underneath the surface of the soil later in the year. The common above-ground flower is what we use as food and medicine.

 

Violet helps us to appreciate stillness— mindful observation, moments of silence, and the important joy of just being. It can expand your abilities as a listener, both to yourself as well as to others, and open you to a powerful place of acceptance. Violet encourages a commitment to be warm and generous towards oneself, it can help separate the negative feelings of loneliness from the incredible gift of alone-ness. It is sometimes within such still spaces that we recognize just how joyful it is to be ourselves, a being in springtime.