The blazing July sun beat down on my face during my first shift back from my double life in Denver. I notice Blue-Ridge Buckbean’s bright yellow flowers bursting one by one. The bright yellow fills me with excitiment. It’s summer at the nursery and everything blooms at it’s own rhythm and pace. Everything is also drying out at its own time, which means twice a day watering for these plants. They drink their fill while I talk to them and sometimes sing.

When I began my spiritual journey 10 years ago, I had no concept of the death and rebirth cycle. It was my understanding that you die and go to the afterlife. Your options were heaven, hell, purgatory or Ghosthood. To die and be resurrected was strictly for Jesus himself. If you believed and confessed that he was the only one to do it, you get your pass to heaven. But even with my christian upbringing, I had my own questions and ideas of death and the afterlife. When exploring my spirituality, I was up against deep conditioning with a splash of generational fear of foreign things. When I was coming up there was more space for questioning adults then my parents had, but no room for children to teach an elder anything. An adult or elder wasn’t supposed to be questioned by a child. Just like you didn’t question God with a capital “G”. So, I was excited to read different thoughts on god and the universe. At the same time I trembled with anxiety about having questions for what god was. Fortunately, my father was pretty open minded and was studying in seminary school. He raised me to think critically and challenge beliefs. I don’t think he knew how far I would question things. Using my intuition to guide me I questioned my own beliefs and collected books on esoteric understandings. This would usher in my first stage of accepting my new bloom.

In my late twenties, I was invited to perform in collaboration with a very talented artist. They were showcasing a series of beautiful water colors on Perennials and their ability to die and be reborn every year. (The name of the show escapes me.)My costume was handmade and designed by me. Featuring a dramatic Pink and lavender tule skirt with a long train and bra with ornamental purple petals hot glued to it. Opera length, satin and lilac gloves, with a beautiful pink and lavender tule veil. As I danced to an amazing vocal performers rendition of Vitamin C by CAN. I was losing my petals and articles of costuming throughout the gallery. Mourning each petal, revealing myself petal-less and naked ready to rest for the Winter. It was an amazing collaboration and hindsight being 20/20 the symbolism is so significant to me now.

At that time I was beginning to explore my dark side, the death, the mourning and the shadow. Now I feel myself entering a new blooming, just like a perennial. That’s the thing isn’t it, blooming is not a destination, it’s part of a continuum, there is no stand still or stop. Even when the flowers are dormant or “dead” they still take nutrients from the soil and require water. From my perspective they don’t recognize stop and start. Humans with all our consciousness are hyper aware of every little thing. In our process of extreme detaching and trying to control nature, we now feel stagnation. The plants are great teachers and they remind me of my place in the world. It is just like them, to move at my own pace in a rhythm that is natural. As I transition careers and enter school again as an adult, I’m getting more comfortable with these new petals. I’m going to back to learn about cannabis horticulture. My intention is to gather more information about the plant I’ve had the longest relationship with. I grieve my old petals, performing burlesque and my childhood dreams of being a famous performer. At the same time, since 2019, I have felt no motivation towards those dreams. Maybe they will come back into bloom and I fully welcome that. Right now I have space for new possibilities. Just like those in Bloom.