I’ve been making the essence of Violet for nearly a decade. These startling bursts of purple low on the ground that call us in for the arrival of spring. I’ve written about the magic of these flowers year after year, and the wonder of them carrying messages renewed each season is such a gift.
This year has been wet. We need the rain and yet, as February soaked into March I truly wondered if there would be a chance for Violet at all. Violets thrive in the few days of “false spring” that Portland gets sometime each January or February and this year we were given no such brief reprieve. It’s been dreary and rainy and cold and even a few days ago I saw snowflakes falling from the sky.
On Monday I was demoing a large cabinet. I have been in a state of nesting as we prepare to host friends immediately postpartum. My motivation to have everything just right before baby arrives had me in a tizzy of tasks. As I released the last hinge off the cabinet, I lost grip on the large door and it crashed down on my big toe. The pain was so startling that I didn’t even make a sound. I focused on breathing and not passing out. I won’t go into the gory details, but this turned into quite an eventful visit to urgent care which saw me with my first ever broken bone, and my first ever need for stitches. I’ve been on crutches and in pain ever since and couldn’t even make it into the shop on Wednesday because it took nearly two hours to change the dressing. But something else happened on Wednesday that shook me out of my wounded spiral. The sun shone bright and the birds were singing in the yard. I knew it was time.
As I carefully drove myself to my Violet Crone’s house, I listened to what the Violets were telling me this year. Violet is the joy of sunshine after weeks of non stop rain. Violet is the rush of words weaving through the poet’s mind after a period of writer's block. Violet is the relief of finding something that’s been missing. It calls out from down below, even lower than your low point and says “here I am! I have returned! Come down here, join me in this place of humility and if you sit in this stillness, something does emerge.” Violet is the confidence of expression. The intrinsic knowing that to be a human being is to be a creative channel. That when something needs to be said or sung or expressed it will find the one who is waiting for it. That you and I and everyone we know are frequencies for this miracle.
When I got to the Violet Crone’s house she greeted me with her sparkling blue eyes and gave me a big hug. This has become an annual tradition. As I tenderly found the rhythm of lowering myself down to pick each tiny bloom so as not to hurt my foot further, she told me about what she’s experienced lately. Some of these stories are sad and I was there to listen. Everyone needs a way to express themselves. A place for their stories to land. To be witnessed to their humanity.
So this year’s Violet Essence holds all of this. A tender container for what is asking to be expressed. A vibrant flair for what has felt dimmed. A tool to dig down below and find the gem.
I present this essence to you as an offering of Spring. The deep well may appear murky but it is giving. Reach for it. Come down here with me. Be still. But let it move you.
