The Wisdom of Poison Ivy

Ya’ll it’s hard to believe I’m writing these words, but I’m selling the Rebellious Ms. Raspberry, “my” island. There have been tears shed on the way to this decision, for sure. But I’m clear that I need to let her go.

Still, I can hold onto the lessons I learned and encourage them to spread out and touch more lives. I’m sharing this post as part of how I honor the incredible gift that living on and learning from Raspberry Island has been for me.

When this post was first sent out to my list, in July 2021, I was waiting for my furniture to arrive from California to my apartment in Baltimore. I still feel like a newcomer in my new hometown, but part of why I’m selling the island is because I want to focus on putting down roots and serving people like you—

People who think that pushing harder is the only way to make change,

People who have been trying so hard for so long, they don’t remember what deep relaxation feels like

People who think they have too much privilege to have justifiable needs

People who think that until justice and equity reign, they need to keep suffering for the cause

People who think they can’t do less or let go of the things that are draining them, but whose hearts and bodies are saying, “Please stop, please go more slowly, please allow more space to breathe, please more joy and delight.”

Believe it or not, the message of poison ivy might be just what you need. Read on.

I’m listening to the wisdom of Poison Ivy - and inviting you to come along.

Yes, you read that right. Today I am inviting you to listen to the wisdom of Poison Ivy. No, not the DC Comics' ecoterrorist who both loves and causes trouble for Batman – though I find it kind of fascinating that she is motivated by the belief that plants should rule the world that has been abusing them.

In actuality, Poison Ivy is a plant that thrives in disturbed environments, so when we clear spaces to build houses or create lawns where there used to be forests, we help it along. Interesting, isn’t it?

Anyway, as part of this journey I’m on to slow down and sink more deeply into being with a capital “B” rather than just constantly DOING, I’ve taken to the habit of walking barefoot across Raspberry Island multiple times on most days when I’m there. I’ve continued this habit despite the increasing number of poison ivy plants that are cropping up. There’s a part of me that is screaming, “shoes, long pants, and socks are in order here!” but it’s not as compelling as the part of me that wants to feel what’s under my feet as I walk.

That said, I don’t recommend that visitors do the same. I recognize the risk.

Mostly, though, it’s not an incredibly brave/unwise move on my part because the poison ivy plants are pretty apparent in the midst of the meadows of grass, rock, and wildflowers. They stand out, though that may not be the case later in the summer.

I walk very, very carefully and then wash my feet and legs with lots of yellow soap and lake water on my return. So far, I’ve made it through this adventure unscathed.

Still, I have decided to set some boundaries with this plant to let it know that it needs to back off so that visitors can walk barefoot on this land. I want them to find rest and restoration when they come here, not itchy, sleepless nights.

So, a few days ago, I set out quite playfully to walk around sharing my orders with the poison ivy plants. I let them know that they need to “cease and desist” their activities. While doing so, I also sprayed them with a vinegar/salt/dish soap mixture I’d read about as a potential poison ivy killer.

I believe in powers of magic and mystery that are working on our behalf, but I also believe in taking what action steps we can.

As the days went on and many of the plants started to wilt, turn brow, and begin to die, I thanked them for following my instructions – and sprayed them some more to help the process along.

I also said prayers of blessing for the work they have done and are doing on this planet. I figured there must be something. And my curious mind wondered what it might be. Then a thought came into my head, what seemed like a message from the Poison Ivy.

“We remind people to walk slowly and carefully on the land—and to pay attention.”

Wow. That resonated. And reminded me of the previous day when I’d worn running shoes, socks, and long pants – how I did move much more quickly, how I couldn’t feel what was happening under my feet, how I didn’t pay close attention to what was around me.

Whether you think the plants sent me that message somehow, or you think my mind came up with it while I focused on these often demonized plants, doesn’t really matter. The invitation is to feel whether it seems like it might be a message for you as well.

Are there ways that you are being invited (perhaps by a difficult or uncomfortable situation, a disease in your body, or a challenge in a relationship) to walk more slowly and carefully through your days and weeks?

Perhaps you are being invited, as I have been, to walk slowly and barefoot on the actual Earth – and to pay attention to what you notice, not doubting yourself or what you hear.

Or to notice where there are disturbed places in your heart and spirit—where there’s some metaphorical poison ivy showing up to invite you to set a boundary and nourish the soil so that what is meant to grow there can thrive, and what’s poison to you (but maybe not to others – after all, poison ivy doesn’t bother most non-humans) doesn’t come in contact with you anymore.

I think it’s delightful and funny that Poison Ivy has such wonderful wisdom to share with us, don’t you? Talk about looking at something from a new perspective!

I’d love to hear how its message resonates for you – or doesn’t.

With that in mind, here’s one more quick tip: If you’re having a hard day, listen to this rendition of Still I Rise and let your body act out/dance out the word.

To thriving and equity,

Deb