Dear Wayward Ones,
Part of the reason for this blog is to share a diary of my life, a record of what was, for when I am but a memory myself. That all of you, my chosen family, can stand in witness, or in some cases, witchness ;P of my life. And so it begins…
Like way too many, I too lost my job at the start of the Pandemic in 2020, and as I write this, have been without work since then. I don’t think any of us expected the situation to last as long as it has, or the emotional, mental and physical stress we would each go through to be as constant and intense. But somehow, the Spirits of Land seemed to know.
When I was working, the commute from mom’s was intense. It required a bus, a commuter train and a subway/bus or street car once I got downtown to get to my destination. Morning commute time was a minimum two hours. Coming home was worse. If you missed the commuter train you had to wait another hour for the next. Which generally meant you missed your bus on the other end to get home, so that would be another 15-20 minutes on top. Because of this, my hours when I was working, had me up at 5:30 in the morning and not returning home till anywhere from 7:45-9:30 at night. The weekends were occupied with taking care of mom’s house, laundry, shoveling snow or mowing the grass – though mom did enjoy doing that herself during the week. And of course running around doing errands.
As a result, I never actually ‘saw’ what was growing in the backyard. I knew the Irises mom had planted just beside the back door, so she could enjoy them from her favourite chair in the kitchen. The wild mint that had spread along that same patch beside the house that I grew from seed so many years ago. The hostas that I love so much that thrive in the shade of the old maple. And I always anticipated the first scent of the lilacs as they emerge from their winter slumber. But that was all I saw… Until the world stood still, and forced us to do the same.
In the spring of 2020, since I was home, after much disagreements, I finally convinced my mom to let the grass grow and seed, as it wasn’t doing well the year before and was getting a few patches that needed reseeding. So I convinced mom to let the grass grow, and let the dandelions bloom so the bees could eat and the rabbits could nibble. In doing this, the spirits of land shared a gift with me.
I began to see sweet little flowers emerge like stars at night, across the back garden. First one twinkled into existance, then another, and soon the garden was filled with these gentle old souls. The spirits of land had introduced me to someone very special. A sweet little bit of a thing. Her gentle nature, made me take my time, walk in grace and sit in quite surrender as I listened to her stories, and the wisdom she had to share. And her message brought me to tears.
She told me that many call her Forget Me Not, and they tell her that she helps them sit in remembrance of others. But, if you let HER tell you her messages you learn so much more. The lessons she shared with me was simple, but changed everything. As the simple things sometimes can. She said that the message comes from the souls. Souls of the living and the dead. So most embrace her energy and message of forget me not in remembrance of others. But she reminded me, that I have a soul as well, and my soul has been reaching out to me, for my own soul feels forgotten. The medicine this sweet plant spirit offered me was a simple message that she spoke in a hushed, but powerful voice: Kayla, Forget YOU not.
She helped me see that there were two ways that I have forgotten myself, lost myself, since moving back home, and I know that many of you fall into this first category.
Caregivers. When we are in a place of caring for another, we prioritize them, not ourselves. And in these simple acts begin to neglect what we need, and make decisions based on other’s best interest, not our own.
The second thing that can start to happen, is you forget yourself, the journey and recovery you made to overcome your past, and embrace the person you were meant to be. Especially if you are returning to a toxic environment where the individual you are caring for is narcissistic, loves being in a victim state, and triggers all the negative emotions and memories from childhood that you worked so hard to move on from.
You begin to remember those energies and find yourself retreating back into that mindset and space. Being tense, and defensive and angry all the time, just as you were as a child. But, she reminded me, you aren’t a child anymore, you moved on from those times, and found freedom on your own.
She encouraged me to remember those moments, remember the person I grew into when I was free to be me. How ready I was to smile, dance and sing. To try new things and explore myself and the world. During those 30 odd years that I was on my own, I had found my true self and the power and strength that exists within me. I found my voice, and began to speak my truths and share my stories. To see there was more ways of being, than the way harmful way I was raised had allowed me to be, or told me I could be.
Remember You, Forget YOU not. When things become tense and my own pitta fires begin to rise both mentally, emotionally and physically with my health issues triggered, I now have this beautiful, powerful plant spirit ally to make me take a moment to exhale and remember how far I’ve come, and not to let my spirit be taken back to a time and energy that did not serve me.
After spending a year with her energy and healing, I was ready to present the message to you all and created a video that spoke to her lessons. It’s a different type of video for me, bit of a walk down memory lane, montage, but it’s such an important share, with the few treasured photos that still remain from the good moments in my life. You see, a few years ago the storage unit in the basement of the apartment I was renting flooded. The pipes that burst were above my unit, and I lost all my Highschool yearbooks, my poetry/ritual books from high school and almost all my photos. This is all that remains, and I am sharing them with all of you.
I had hoped to borrow some more from my childhood in mom’s albums, but true to form, it turns out my sister wanted the albums and mom gave them all to her. There was nothing left for me. Which is unfortunate. But, if you are new here, you will quickly learn, is very much the norm with my family. But I’ll save those stories for another time.
I hope that the message of Grandmother Forget Me Not reaches you.
Forget YOU Not my beautiful wayward ones.
I know all of you that I have had the pleasure to speak with, have become unforgettable to me.
Namaste, and blessed be, till we meet again in sacred space.