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Can I pull you for a chat about Lemon Balm and the New Moon in Gemini?

Plants have been our constant companions since the beginning. They were here long before us and it’s their ability to produce oxygen and nourish us that helped us evolve into the humans we are today. Our relationship has always been reciprocal, though we haven’t always been great at holding up our end of the bargain. We can begin to repair our relationships with plants by cultivating deeper connections with them.

Connecting with plants can foster empathy, patience, and a heightened sense of connection with ourselves and the world around us. Learning about the spirits of plants can help us connect beyond what they can do for us, and one way I like to connect with plants is through my ancestral lineage. I think of some plants as ancestral, some plants as guides, and some plants as personal allies.

Ancestral plants are the ones that walked with us through time. For those of us in the African diaspora, I think of Hibiscus Sorrel as one of those plants. As I’ve said before, whether we’re calling it Sorrel, Bissap, or Sobolo, Hibiscus Sorrel is loved and has loved us back across distance, colonial violence, and time. Ancestral plants have stuck with us through so much, and intentionally working with them helps me connect with those who came before me.

Guides are the plants that get us through it, whatever “it” is. They sometimes overlap with ancestral plants, and they help us balance our energies or treat specific issues as they arise. They may be plants we grew up with in our families or plants we regularly rely on during recurring cycles in our lives. I also identify and use plant guides to navigate the planetary energy and themes of the year, like Nettles for this Mars year.

Our personal allies are the plants that match our energy. They’re our besties, our confidantes, our ace boon coons. These plants tend to show up for us right when we need them and when we meet, there’s often a deep sense of familiarity. There are common properties about these plants that we read about or learn from others, but we also gain knowledge or benefits that are specific to our personal relationship with them. The first plant ally I met at the beginning of my community herbalism journey is Lemon Balm.

“Indigenous herbalists say to pay attention when plants come to you; they’re bringing you something you need to learn.” -Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass

Lemon Balm came to me in a dream.

It was early in the pandemic, I’d just ended a soul-sucking relationship, and I felt like I was losing it. I was angry, grieving, and frustrated by everyone ignoring the clear signs that the world had permanently changed. Naturally, I took all those feelings to my altar. That night, I dreamed of sticking my hands in loamy soil to plant Lemon Balm, letting its zingy scent wash over me as I let the wisdom of the dirt hold me. The next day, I saw a call for volunteers at a community garden and when I arrived to help later that week, we were transplanting Lemon Balm.

Lemon Balm found me when I was the most disconnected from my joy and my head, and its bright, calming scent brought me back into my body after the whirlwind of emotions swept me out of it. Lemon Balm was once considered an “elixir of life” and believed to increase lifespans. It gets its common name, Sweet Melissa, and Latin name, Melissa officinalis, from the Greek word for “honeybee”. The Melissae were also Priestesses of Demeter and Persephone, and just like the Priestesses it’s named for, it can guide us through the cycles of harvest, death, and rebirth to heal.

Lemon Balm’s sweet, gentle nature makes it a great plant for children, whether it’s your inner child or an actual child. Its antidepressive and antianxiety properties help us relax our bodies and minds enough for rest, integration, and healing. Lemon Balm’s ability to gentle parent our emotions can be particularly helpful for navigating today’s New Moon in Gemini.