13. Belonging and the Sacred Seed of Self - Lyall's Angelica
Reading time: 19 minutes
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This chapter holds a special place in my heart as it captures a pivotal moment in my journey toward healing and self-discovery. It beautifully unfolds a narrative that signifies a transformative shift in how I perceive and practice self-care, self-love, and self-parenting. I am sharing this chapter for free because it can stand alone, and I hope to inspire you with this transformative experience. I am genuinely excited to hear your reflections and insights!
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Introduction
Chapter 1: A Dangerous Road Home
Chapter 10: Embracing Change – Smoke, Wind, and Whitebark Pine
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"I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the riverbed, nothing between me and the white fire of the stars but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths among the branches of the perfect trees. All night I heard the small kingdoms breathing around me, the insects, and the birds who do their work in the darkness. All night I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling with a luminous doom. By morning I had vanished at least a dozen times into something better." ~ Sleeping in the Forest, Mary Oliver
FOR MORE THAN twenty years, I had recurring dreams of pregnancy and birth. Many were nightmares of having infants to nurse and care for that I either lost, discarded, ignored, or forgot to feed. Horrified, I watched nourishing milk flow out of my breasts while forgotten babies starved. Sometimes, the infants grew to be children without me. These older, emaciated children sought me out, pleading for attention, for the mothering and nurturing only I could provide but didn’t.
Over time, I realized the babies were aspects of myself, and I was the lost child. My dreaming mind encouraged me to love myself and reconnect with the missing pieces. As a child, I received the physical care required to survive, but I needed more. I began to understand that I wasn’t bad, a failure, or inadequate. I wasn’t fully parented. The bear grass essence revealed something needing my attention; my inner child needed to be acknowledged, encouraged, seen, heard, and most importantly, held and loved.
IT WAS DEEP SUMMER when the call of nature beckoned me. The calling started as a random thought, seemingly unrelated to anything else in my mind. I made plans for a two-week solo camping trip, a spiritual journey of sorts. My life was changing in ways I didn’t fully understand, and I had many questions. I needed solitude to reconnect with what I trusted most—nature and intuition.
Still unable to carry a pack, I planned to tent camp as remotely as possible in areas reachable by car. I wanted to take advantage of the unimproved and dispersed camping in Montana's National Forests. I didn't need campsite improvements like fire rings, pit toilets, or tables—the amenities that attract people. With my Subaru Outback packed with food, gear, and bedding, I headed toward the Yaak River Valley, allowing my loosely planned adventure to unfold as it may.
I ate sunflower seeds and sang along with Patty Griffin as I drove, vocalizing vulnerability and strength in the same breath. I felt the bear grass essence deepening my connection to nature, making it easy to be present in the moment without my thoughts running wild. The windshield wipers swished away a persistent drizzle as I followed Highway 200 along the Clark Fork River toward Ross Creek Cedars, an old-growth western red cedar grove in the Kootenai National Forest.
Night came fast, with dark clouds hanging long and low to the ground. Rain fell hard as I looked for a spot to camp, and I tried not to let frustration get the better of me as I opened the hatch to pull out my tent, bear spray, and headlamp. With loud and insistent drops on the hood of my rain jacket, I set up my shelter and quickly threw in my air mattress, sleeping bag, pillow, and water bottle. I climbed into the tiny vestibule, peeled off the wet straps of my Chaco sandals, and hung my jacket to dry. Finally, cozy and warm in my down sleeping bag, I fell asleep to the sound of rain on my old, familiar tent.
When I woke up, the sky was half-lit, like twilight or dusk, and the rain had stopped. I stood outside my tent next to a tiny creature, like an ill-intentioned house-elf I read about in the Harry Potter stories. Conversely, this creature had round instead of sharp features and a kinder, gentler nature. I smiled, and a warm hand with long fingers took mine and led me through a grove of giant red cedars. Wet needle-leaves felt soft and moist on my bare feet. The air smelled like wet cedars and decaying earth—a scent both fresh and alive.
The elfin creature led me to an opening where seven beings stood in a circle. They looked almost human, but they were nearly transparent, made more of light and color than solid matter. The light was brightest in their heads and torsos, and their limbs moved like vague whispers. They were strange yet familiar, like distant family members residing in other states, countries, worlds, or perhaps different dimensions. I wondered if they were the same beings I visited in my out-of-body travels when I was younger. Their colors shifted from blue to green and back to blue as we approached, and they turned their attention toward us.
The little creature’s hand still held mine, and I clung tightly to its long fingers. Trying to make sense of things, I thought maybe I should be afraid, but I wasn’t, and I wondered why I wasn’t cold. The beings seemed to be communicating with one another telepathically. Their lips didn’t move; they exchanged light between them, and I heard thoughts that weren’t mine. Without words, they told me I was here to join with one of them and receive a sacred gift, a seed. They said that carrying this seed was a great honor and that out of everyone on earth, this seed was mine to carry.
My heartbeat was smooth and steady, and my breathing was deep and slow. The beings guided me to a small temple made of stone and wood that appeared to be emerging from the earth—it felt alive. Inside, warmth and light radiated from the walls.
Three of the beings led me down a long, softly glowing hallway. The floor was smooth and cool on my bare feet. The hallway led to a cavern with a natural pool of water glowing blue and green as steam rose from its still surface. One of them reached out to unzip my fleece jacket and helped me take it off one arm at a time, followed by my t-shirt and shorts. The being gestured toward the water, and I tested it with one foot before I settled into the warm, wet, silky comfort. The bottom of the pool was fine sand, and the sides were smooth stone. I leaned back and let my body float just a little.
The beings stood silently around the pool as I soaked, not necessarily watching, just holding space. I didn’t know if I was looking at their front or back. I had never felt so safe. I closed my eyes and sank deeper, allowing my mind to relinquish my desire to understand what was happening. The experience felt real, yet also like a dream.
Time wasn’t tracking for me, and I didn’t know how long I had soaked in the water. When I exited the pool, the three beings dried me with something soft and light and began lovingly anointing me with fragrant oils. I understood they were preparing my body and womb for the seed, for new life. Their touch was tingly and energizing, and they sang and chanted a combination of sounds I didn’t recognize; yet again, it felt hauntingly familiar. They wove lupine, arnica, and paintbrush flowers into my hair and dressed me in a robe of blue light, so delicate I could barely touch it or hold it between my fingers.
They led me to where the four other beings waited. One of them shifted and changed as the light disappeared inward, and the shape of a young man emerged. He had long brown hair and big eyes radiating the blue light he had once been. His eyes were more than twice the size of human eyes, but he appeared human. He stepped toward me with outstretched hands as the others silently reassured me. He was the being who would plant my seed.
Uh oh, I thought while taking a step back. A part of my mind that had been sleeping woke up, and I spoke out loud.
“There must be some mistake. I am too old to join with this young man and carry his seed. He needs someone else.”
I looked around, wondering how to find my way back to my tent. Silently and gently, the beings prodded me from the inside, reassuring me this was not about him. It was my seed. He had been caring for it, keeping it safe until I was ready. They told me I could choose not to accept the seed, but it would always be mine.
They explained that they didn’t see me the same way I saw myself. They saw me as a light being within a human body, both male and female, with the perspective, wisdom, experience, and human life force necessary to carry this seed. I was to nurture and care for this gift for the rest of my days on earth. From this day forward, this gift and all that would ensue from this creative union would become my life.
Something inside me cracked a little, and I felt something release, easing a pressure I didn't know I had been holding. Through the crack, warm and cool energy made its way to my heart. I embraced the sacredness of the moment. It felt like big love, like when I held my infant children for the first time.
I knew this was mine to do.
The other three beings asked me what I needed to feel supported and what I needed in my earthly life to bring this gift into the world. Without much thought, I rattled off the areas of my life where I felt lacking.
“I would like to be healed. I want to be healthy, pain-free, and strong again. I want my own home again, the small one I have been visualizing that sits alongside a creek, with room for gardens and a place to create art and share it with others.”
I told them I was tired of struggling and would like enough money to sustain me for the rest of my life. The requests felt trivial and selfish, but the beings didn't hesitate. They nodded in unison, stepped back, and spoke in their silent way.
“It is done. We will provide all you require for your well-being and comfort. We will support you as you give birth to what lies within. As it grows, whenever you lack something, call on us. Ask, and it is yours, but remember to do your part and stay true to this trust. Your role is to nurture this seed.”
The young man took my hands, and the blue light of his eyes exploded into mine. Everything else disappeared. I grew beyond the walls and the forest. I became lost in the depths of his being, or perhaps it was mine. Our souls co-mingled in a sea of light, and I felt connected to the world in a way I had never felt before. Then, some part of him reached deep inside and planted a seed of light in my womb.
It was alive!
WHAT FELT LIKE moments later, I awoke on a soft, warm bed with the little elf-like creature gently urging me to get up. Loving energy pulsed through me. A pale blue light oozing from my pores seemed to vitalize my senses. I felt the seed inside alive and growing. I was light-headed momentarily, but when the familiar little hand took mine, I stood, and we walked out of the temple together.
As we walked, I pondered what it meant to carry this seed. I knew it would require nurturing and commitment as if it were my child, one that I would care for until the end of my days. I also thought of the young star-being, and somewhere deep inside, I knew he was an aspect of me—an ageless, limitless, larger part of me.
A feeling of all-is-well filled my heart.
I returned to the morning and my life, waking in my sleeping bag just as I had gone to sleep, with the sound of rain falling on my tent.
August 8, 2013
FIELD NOTES: Big Therriault Lake, Kootenai National Forest
The sky was bright when I found a sizeable sun-warmed rock on the shore of the lake. I sat down with my insulated mug of coffee and soaked up the warmth. Mergansers drifted by in the distance, making circles on the smooth, glassy water, stirring and distorting the reflection of the mountains. I vividly recalled the transcendent dream from the cedar grove five days ago and the many years of recurring dreams about infants and children left hungry and abandoned.
The dream revealed I was divinely supported and guided; this was new. I have felt alone for most of my life, as if I didn’t belong anywhere, with anyone. A part of me never really wanted to be alive, which created an inner dissonance because I simultaneously cherished and held dear the many precious people in my life, and I deeply loved and valued the earth I walked on each day. The tender and poignant struggles and triumphs of my children filled my heart, and the beauty and power of the planet sustained and inspired me.
Deep down, I knew that the light beings, who I now call Star Beings, were members of my soul family, part of a greater collective supporting an inner reconciliation between Earth me and a more significant unseen part of myself. I was on a journey home to merge lost pieces of myself—the starving babies from my dreams. When I accepted the seed from the young star-being, the unseen significant part of me, I agreed to honor, nurture, and protect the uniqueness within, and I committed to living it.
This journey would require self-parenting and self-love.
BEING THE ONLY HUMAN for miles in a land that belongs to Montana's apex predator, the grizzly bear, didn't concern me. I am in awe of grizzlies with a healthy fear and respect for their power. For some, being one week into a two-week solo camping trip might cause anxiety, restlessness, loneliness, fear, or feelings of being insignificant. But I had never been more content with my tent, sleeping bag, favorite well-worn hiking boots, book, sketchpad, and journal that kept me occupied during the rains. I was reading "Unbroken," the biography of Louis Zamperini by Laura Hillenbrand, an inspiring story of survival, courage, and reliance. It was perfect!
A large mule deer doe visited my campsite each morning and evening. Over time, she grew more curious and less cautious, moving closer to watch as I prepared food or changed clothes. The surrounding trees stood like sentinels, and the wildflowers shamelessly flaunted their colorful crowns of perfection in the light of day. I fit into this wild like a clover in a mountain meadow, and I trusted this aspect of me more than any other. I felt safe, protected, and one with my surroundings, perhaps more so than at any other time in my life.
After three days of exploring the neighboring trails, creeks, ponds, and ridges, I could no longer ignore the calling of the white umbrella-shaped flower clusters that looked like poison hemlock. An essence was wanting to be born here. The white flowers were growing among the cow parsnip and other vegetation along the water’s edge. Even though I knew that none of the dangerous physical properties of the hemlock would transfer into an essence, my mind was troubled and came up with several irrational and improbable outcomes. I allowed my intuition to take the lead, and as before, I followed the divine guidance of butterflies. Fluttering orange and black wings led me into the sun onto a small, protected beach of pebbles and sand.
I rested a clear glass bowl beneath a tall, ribbed stalk that held a flat globe-like cluster of even smaller clusters of tiny white flowers. I filled the bowl with water I collected from a deep well outside of Yaak. Honeybees were active and busy, visiting each white bloom before buzzing off to their next destination.
Before selecting any flowers, I connected to the unseen realms and spirits of the plants and the land. I was beginning to understand that my team of unseen helpers included parts of me that live beyond the physical. I started an inner dialogue with the white clusters of flowers. My intuition guided me to select only the blooms that wanted to participate in the essence. I always choose flowers at the peak of their bloom because the energy of their inherent perfection brings balance to human lives that have become tattered and ragged.
Soon, the bowl of water held three white umbels.
Lying down on the pebble beach, I made myself comfortable and placed one hand in the cool wetness of the lake. The voice of the water came through strong and clear, bringing my awareness to the power of our emotions. Whether we acknowledge them or not, emotions are our guides. They show us how connected we are to our core truths and whether our thoughts focus on what we desire or fear.
Water insisted that I take some deep breaths and, with the in-breath, embrace how I want to feel and, with the out-breath, release feelings I no longer needed. I envisioned my lungs and cells filling with light and positive energy as I released my shadows to the earth. I sensed that we could move beyond the fear of drowning in our own emotions with intentional breathing. Immersed in the flow of my breath, allowing and releasing, giving and receiving, I heard a buzzing close to my head and sat up. The bowl of flowers was covered with honeybees. The essence would have honeybee consciousness, the divine order of collective purpose.
The bees reminded me of the Star Beings, operating from a high level of cooperation and purposeful being. I believe that we come from dynamic groups and communities of souls scattered throughout the universe. Even though we are individuals, we remain connected at a deep unconscious level. Bees operate in this same way—they go out alone to support and maintain the plant kingdom by pollinating flowers and collecting pollen to create royal jelly to nourish their queen, using polarized light from the sun to navigate. Like honeybees, a common and greater purpose and a shared sun connect us, even if we forget while in the shroud of being human.
I considered for a moment how far away I was from other people. I knew I would rather be right where I was than anywhere else. I belonged here doing what I was doing. I wasn’t alone. I felt a deep and undeniable connection, a collaboration between myself and the natural world. The bear grass essence was deepening my engagement with nature, restoring my connection with her wisdom, and the Star Beings were encouraging me to reconnect with myself. I took a deep breath and lay down again. The water lapped on the shore, wanting to be heard, insisting that I infuse this feeling of being sheltered, protected, and connected into the cells of my being.
My attention suddenly shifted to nerve pain and tingling in my ankles, feet, and hands, and I realized I had forgotten to take my medication. I was far from my camp and decided to go without for now. The sun was warm, and I was sleepy, but the lake kept splashing tiny water droplets onto my face, alerting and refreshing me.
There was an old stump on the beach, with gnarled solid roots planted deep, clinging to the earth. The stump told me to hold firm to my core values and not be swayed by the winds of the mind or the waters of unwanted emotion. The stump bore the artful markings and shaping of water and wind, but it never deterred from holding fast to the earth. There was strength and wisdom in this.
Pulling out my sketchbook, pencils, and magnifying glass, I looked closer at the white flowers growing along the lakeshore. Their ribbed stalks were hollow like straws, with sections where the serrated leaflets emerged. When I rubbed the leaves between my fingers, they smelled like licorice. The umbrella-shaped flowers appeared from the top of the tall stalks. Each umbel had many smaller globe-shaped groupings of flowers connected in the center, branching out to create a greater community. It was a universe of flowers! I dug into the sandy soil with my fingers and found the taproot was long and deep, with many tiny rootlets holding fast to the moist rocky soil. I filled the earth back in.
The physical signature of this flower enthralled me. It represented souls dispersed throughout the universe, connected by a thread of deeply rooted purpose. I don’t believe in a god or a supreme being. My experience with life has revealed a culmination of the highest forms of love, consciousness, and intelligence permeating all that is, communicating with me through the natural world. My focus determines my level of awareness within that greater consciousness. Whoever the Star Beings were, I sensed they were providing a service for the greater good, a service more incredible than I could imagine. Whichever way I interpreted the experience, I returned to the same thing: we are all connected.
Later, as I gathered the essence water from the bowl, my treasure, the bees flew up and circled over my head. Soon, they, too, would head home with their day's bounty.
The next day, I said goodbye to my plant friends but knew I would see them again. After all, they are expressions of collectives, not merely individuals. I left the lake country to continue my journey back towards the Yaak River Valley, where a tall yellow flame-like flower called to me.
I stopped at the Forest Service office in Eureka to look at their flower guidebooks. The ranger was startled when I laughed and exclaimed out loud, “Thank you!” The essence I had just made was Lyall's angelica: Angelica arguta, not poison hemlock. I smiled wide as I thought of my unseen friends who embodied the archetype of angels: living beings of light who help those in need with no expectation in return.
Lyall’s Angelica (Angelica arguta)
Essence qualities: (belonging) The angelica flower essence surrounds us with the protective embrace of belonging and a knowing that we are a valuable and vital piece of a greater whole. It reminds us that we all have a divine purpose and reason for being. It raises our awareness of the unseen realms and the unlimited support and guidance available. Angelica essence helps us find the space within our heart-of-hearts, where we connect with all that is, bringing sacred to the ordinary and meaning to our daily experience. It helps deepen our roots in the physical, so we become a source for our safety and a resource for others.
Indications: feeling alone and disconnected; feeling as if you don’t belong on earth; disconnected from self and soul family; abandoned by or estranged from your physical family; feeling unsupported; unable to sustain or validate a meaningful existence; lacking security.
Affirmations: I choose myself, an imperfect yet worthwhile person. I have value, and I add value to the world. The world would not be the same without me. I AM protected, loved, and cherished. When I am troubled, I ask for help, and it is given.
NEXT: 14. Awakening my Inner Radiance - Canada Goldenrod
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