Gathering the flowers. When the flowers are open, it’s on and all other responsibilities bump down the priority list. Collecting water lilies is one of my favourite hunts. Orienting your life around seasonal ebbs & flows feels divinely natural, & old thymey primal. Paddling and picking. Life becomes simple, each moment a remembrance of gratitude for the life being transmuted from flower to medicine. The lilies have been calling me for weeks, and I can now see how effectively they managed to infiltrate my reality; well played. I captured a flower essence from Nymphaea caerulea, one of the earlier bloomers after a friend asked me for an essence to open hearts. Intuitively the water Nymph called me, and dream downloads affirmed the choice of plant. Or was the plant choosing us? I’ve been drinking her water ever since and reflecting on her qualities over the past month. Here’s my Blue Water Lily summary: + Opens my heart in subtle cracks & crannies - as if a light breeze is flowing through windows. She’s quite elegant & smooth. + From the gentle caress of spaciousness emerges grief - sadness in my heart + Underneath the sadness is joy, spontaneous creativity & lots of energy holding me effortlessly + New kinnects between my yoni & heart - sexual activation, layers of pain, layers of attractions. She offers ethereal insights. This past month, the lily has been helping me to equally value the grief & the joy as one emotional spectrum. No craving. No aversion. The only way is through. And it’s a process. Now I’m knee deep in lily petals & stamens, washing dead bees out lily yonis, intoxicated by her aroma which has replaced oxygen in my house, spreading lily propaganda, and already planning my next encounter with her wyld Self. I re-remember that I’m a pawn. I’ve been played! And willingly. Play me again lily?