Life Cycles

At times, I cycle off herbs.

It’s something I subconsciously do. One day, I simply stop reaching for them. I lose interest in taking them, and before I realize it, days or weeks have passed without herbs being part of my daily routine.

It honestly sucks because I love working with plants and using herbs as part of my life.

But I’m also learning that maybe there is something to these cycles.

Now that I’m returning to working with herbs, I’m reminded of how much they have become a part of the way I nourish my mind and body.

They help me move through things that may still be lingering beneath the surface.

I can practice yoga, meditate, receive Reiki, and go to the gym every day. All of those things are valuable parts of my life. But I’m learning that I can do all of those things and still avoid getting to the root of what I’m holding onto.

For me, healing isn’t about finding one practice that fixes everything.

It’s about learning how all of these pieces connect.

Sometimes that means movement. Sometimes it’s meditation. Sometimes it’s Reiki. Sometimes it’s spending time outside or working with a plant. And sometimes it’s simply sitting still long enough to notice what my body has been trying to tell me.

I’ve been spending the last seven months deeply studying how trauma can affect the body and how our experiences can influence the way we move, breathe, think, and exist within ourselves.

That learning has been intense, to say the least.

The more I learn, the more I understand that healing isn’t always about what we consciously remember. Sometimes our bodies are communicating things before our minds have words for them.

And that’s something I’ve been paying much closer attention to.

I can do yoga, meditate, receive Reiki, and exercise every day, but if I’m not willing to look at what I’m carrying, I can still find myself going through the motions without actually getting to the root of it.

For me, plants can sometimes help me reach places that other natural practices don’t always touch.

There is something about working with herbs that feels different.

They become part of my everyday life. They ask me to slow down, pay attention, and listen.

And strangely enough, stepping away from them and eventually coming back has made me even more grateful for them.

I notice the difference.

My thoughts don’t feel quite as loud. My body doesn’t feel as tense. I feel less weighed down by the inflammation and discomfort that have been building within me.

It reminds me that sometimes we don’t fully appreciate something until we experience what it feels like without it.

This particular season has also reminded me that the body needs more than one form of nourishment.

Nourishment can look like food.

It can look like plants.

It can look like sleep and rest.

It can look like movement with the breath.

It can look like sitting quietly and allowing yourself to notice what is happening inside of you.

It can look like meditation—not trying to empty your mind, but learning how to be present with what is already there.

It can even look like allowing someone else to support you through practices such as Reiki.

For the last seven months, I’ve been learning so much about trauma, the nervous system, and the ways our experiences can affect us.

At the same time, I stepped away from herbs as part of my daily routine.

I can feel the effects of that combination in my body.

The inflammation I’m experiencing right now has been painful and frustrating. There are moments when it feels sad, angry, and honestly, just plain frustrating.

But instead of fighting my body for being where it is, I’m trying to listen to it.

My focus for the next few months is nourishment.

Nourishing my body.

Nourishing my mind.

Moving.

Breathing.

Resting.

Working with plants again.

Continuing to learn.

Continuing to listen.

Not because I expect one thing to fix everything, but because healing, for me, has never been about one single practice.

It’s about connection.

Connecting the plants with the body.

Connecting movement with the breath.

Connecting the mind with the body.

Connecting what I know intellectually with what I actually feel.

And sometimes, connecting back to the things that have supported me all along.

I think that’s part of the beauty of life cycles.

We don’t always move forward in a straight line.

Sometimes we step away.

Sometimes we return.

Sometimes we need a season of rest before we’re ready to begin again.

And sometimes returning to something familiar allows us to appreciate it in an entirely new way.

Maybe that’s what this season is asking of me.

Not to rush.

Not to fix everything at once.

Just to begin nourishing myself again and pay attention to what happens when I do.

I love this part of spring—the feeling of waking up after winter’s slumber and slowly bringing the rest of the body back to life.

Although maybe I’ll wait until this cold front blows through first.

My body can wake up when it’s ready.

And maybe that’s the lesson, too.

There is no perfect timeline for healing.

There are only cycles.

And we get to move through them in our own time.