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Image by Travis Betel.

 

I’ve sat down to write this post seventeen times.

I’ve drunk four cups of tea, texted three friends (including one I haven’t spoken with in a few months), and had a luxurious conversation with my Dad.

And then sat down again.

Eighteen attempts. Go me.

In desperation, I googled each of my favorite bloggers plus the word “resistance.”

I found this on Danielle LaPorte’s blog:

You’ll likely resist. You’ll fear losing it. You’ll numb out in disbelief.

Oh.

Yeah, that about sums up what’s happened since I sold Sage School… the program where, for the past decade (first live, then online) I’ve taught botanical medicine to home herbalists, nurses, midwives, and even a few M.D.s.

I thought I’d celebrate the sale with dinner out, a bit of prosecco, and an honorary recap of more than a decade of teaching and mentoring students who taught me so very much about myself, the plants, effective communication, and community.

I even had a ceremony planned to help me process and release my own past. Fire and sage—my favorite tools for letting go.

None of that happened.

Instead I made it through the sale and collapsed.

You’ll numb out in disbelief.

I slept in, worked in my pajamas, and extended my “long winter’s rest” from December into January.

This week I announced the sale to Sage School students… and then spent hours not writing this post, resisting the big announcement.

Because telling you makes it real.

I sold Sage School, the work of a decade. Two decades, really.

Sage School integrates everything I learned as a student, practitioner, teacher, and college professor in Botanical Medicine.

And like most big life chapters, there came a point where it felt complete and I was ready to begin new work.

But that doesn’t make it easy.

It doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes have guilt for feeling relief.

Sometimes I think of Sage School as a child grown, ready to fly the nest, go to college,
get married, become something other than what I could envision for it.

Other times Sage School is the jilted lover having to step aside for Witch Camp.

I never expected to feel guilt for moving on.

I’m suddenly accosting anyone with a cough, blathering about every herb that might help them, as if trying to prove to the herbs, to myself, that I’m still dancing, still living in communion with them.

‘Cause Witch Camp is still about the plants.

It’s about healing and the cycles of the seasons and the turnings of the moon. In many ways it’s a return to my own beginnings in herbalism, back when I was a Medicine Woman’s apprentice in Ireland.

Here’s the final secret:

Witch Camp is all the things I most resisted back when I was that medicine woman’s apprentice.

There’s that word again.

Resistance.

I needed to focus on the science so I could make herbal medicine “respectable.” I needed it to make sense to my East Coast intellectual family. I needed to feed my brain.

But it was the sense of sacred, of magic, which fed, and still feeds, my soul.

One of the glorious things about modern technology is that Sage School—my love song to medical herbalism—can continue on. A past student, Christine Connors, has stepped up and will be the new owner and director.

Christine’s love of the green world and her training in information technology (kind of like library science but online) puts her in a unique position to run a web-based program. I can’t wait to see what she’ll build on the Sage School foundation. Passing it to Christine feels like the beginning of a lineage: students stepping up to take over the teaching.

So you’ll still be able to study herbalism *with* me through the videos now in Christine’s care. If you want updates on classes, sign up to keep up with all things. Just add your name to the Sage School mailing list and Christine will be in touch.

Two new chapters—hers and mine—start here.

Thoughts? Share below. Questions? Email info@wordpress-39288-83404-237019.cloudwaysapps.com.

Big Hugs—

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