Herb school tutor —
making incense blocks.
“I prefer diffusing oils,”
I said.
Her response:
“Not as eco-friendly.
Know your market.”
She’s detoxing her digital life.
Has haggled for a paper map.
—
On a compound, the ranger
talks about the squirrels.
He can’t find the word.
“Hypervigilant,” I say.
“Exactly!” he remarks.
—
“You know you can get chillies
from these trees?” I say to a friend.
“If you look up, you can see them.”
I add, pointing to the sky.
—
A teacher asks me
about a child’s birthday.
“I only buy Christmas and birthday presents —
it gets expensive otherwise.”
You’ve said that three times,
I say to myself.
—
One of the children has finished
their lunch.
They’ve sucked all the flavour
from the meat and fruit —
and spat out the protein.
—
Driving out of the compound:
“Watch their toes,”
I say.
Little children all around.
—
On the main road —
lots of trans people.
Live your best life,
I think.
Shops selling period costume.
I must browse these at some point.
The Meaning
incense
Tension between an old personal preference and a new way forward. How do I align?
map
A return to simplicity, by making life unnecessary harder.
squirrels
Shared language—sensing what’s there before it’s named.
chillies
There’s sustenance, if you know where to look.
Nourishment isn’t always low hanging.
repetition
There’s parts of my identity replaying and now they’re being challenged.
lunch
A need to be careful about absorbing pleasure without nourishment.
exit
I drive like a protector—eyes wide, foot light, careful about innocence falling under my wheels.
road
Acknowledging and witnessing the brave move to live an authentic life, even if that means conflict.
shops
Period costume. A nod to history.
I see, but don’t engage.
Not yet. Maybe later.
What Lingers…
What if discernment means knowing when to speak, and when to simply witness?
What if growth is found not in rejecting the past, but in choosing where to engage next?
Marginalia
Waiting to begin a new herbal medicine course, and my dreams are keen to surface old fears and unhelpful patterns. This is the first in a series of herb school dreams.
In Fireweed and Bunny Munro, I’m lost but eager to learn.
In Competence vs. Compassion, I’m profiled by my tutors.
In I Was Late, Afterall, I abandon my own needs for accountability.
In Flawed but Trying, I’m exposed in my mess while defending my son.
Journaling reveals the picture being woven: lessons I didn’t know I was studying.
