Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 


February 27, 2017


A friend, recently back from retreat in San Diego, brought back a (sustainably foraged) gift of white sage. White Sage (Salvia Apiana), as you may or may not know, has long been a sacred herb, used for healing, for clearing energy and (as an antimicrobial and antiviral) purifying a space vulnerable to illness. Indigenous people have used sage for ceremonial purposes in North and South America, but (if you really wanted to) you could trace its use back to ancient Babylonia.


We aren't going to do that, though. I trust the plant; that's all the legitimacy I need.


ANYway. What a gift! All this fresh sage (which is only native to the Southwestern US). I set it aside with the intention of making smudge sticks, and headed out for my hike. Now, in the snowy remains of winter, there is little green and growing. However, another windfall of white pine littered my hike and I gathered what I could carry on my walk home.


Et violà: East meets West in a windfall of a gift that reminded me that most of the stuff I agonize over daily is just the ugly, gritty, slushy icy snow at the side of the road that, with time (time!) will all melt away. What remains, what is steady, what is constant, are the gifts that come free and wild with their own rogue beauty and sacred utility. 


Thank you for these gifts.













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