Ethical Harvesting, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sage

Yesterday I acquired some sprigs of California White Sage at work.

Now I love the smell of white sage, and I know it has many purported magical uses. It can be used in healing salves, it can be burned for purification purposes, it can be used in magical workings to grant wisdom or protection, and so on and so forth. It's also delicious, and even though I'm an abysmal cook at best, I love to add it to pasta sauce!

But I would never be so irresponsible as to buy it in a big bundle at some metaphysical shop such as Moonfyre Metaphysical in Campbell, or Universal Connection in Willow Glen, even though I love sage more than any other herb.

California White Sage has been over-harvested to the point of endangerment. I love its smell. I love its energy. I love its taste. But buying large chunks of it is simply not sustainable. And for how much Pagan and new age communities are all about loving the earth, a lot of people are just unaware of this problem despite scholarly evidence.

And there are other plants you can use in place of sage. Rosemary is also good for protection and purification, and sweetgrass and juniper can also be used for burning purposes. Since I grow my own rosemary at home (a plant I will miss dearly once I move) I mostly end up using that even though in my heart of hearts I prefer sage.

But our gardens at work have to be kept in a very particular way. I've mentioned before I work at the world famous, beautiful but bizarre™ Winchester Mystery House. Victorian gardens are intense when it comes to upkeep - Mrs. Winchester's gardens have over 110 plants from all over the world, many of them herbs with medicinal uses like sage - and my boss said the sage plant had to be trimmed. Since these sprigs were going to be tossed in the trash anyway, I of course figured there would be no harm in asking if I could take them home.

And so they were bagged, labeled "Sarah's Sage - 1/24/16" (in honour, of course, of Sarah Winchester), and handed off to me. Half of them were rinsed and put in the kitchen for culinary purposes (along with some lemons from one of Sarah Winchester's own trees - there are myriad perks to working in such a place), and the other half are now being dried in my room, though I'm still unsure exactly what I'm going to use them for. At least they make my room smell delicious.

And hey, not everyone can say they have ethically-harvested sage from a world famous haunted mansion!

-Nym-

I Bought My Plane Ticket Today

Even though I've been planning and saving for this move for months, even though Sarah and I talked about this when she recently visited California, it took actually spending the ~$160 for this move to seem real.

Now I have a date on my big move.

On 26 July - a Tuesday, three days after my last day at my beloved job (which I will miss but these sacrifices must be made) - I'm going to have to wake up suuuuper early (my flight is at 6:15 AM!!!) and get my stepdad to haul me and my stuff to the airport before work.

There's a layover at 9 AM in Salt Lake City, Utah. I'll get breakfast then. I've been to the SLC airport before and found it confusing, but I'll have enough time to get something quick.

And then, shortly before 6 PM, I'll arrive at JFK airport in New York City.

It's actually happening. I'm actually doing this.

I'm in shock.

~n~

History Has Its Eyes On You

About a week ago, my mother (whom again, I have a... complicated relationship with) took myself and Sarah's family out for dinner. It went surprisingly well - Sarah is far more charismatic than I am, and could charm anyone, even my mother, which is good because if my mother had not liked her she absolutely would have either tried to stop me from moving to New York or insisted upon visiting me in New York every. single. MONTH.

And sometime during that dinner, as the parental units wanted to know Sarah's and my personal plans for the future, someone (I believe her father) asked me just why it was that I loved history so much.

I always have loved history. It's my true passion in life (other than "Gravity Falls" and the paranormal and my friendship with Sarah of course!) but I wasn't quite sure how to answer why. The answer I came up with rings surprisingly true, though:

At the end of all the historical battles and treaties and monuments that we learn about, all the historical figures behind them were people, like you and me. They were human beings with their own hopes, their own dreams, their own stories. My job really ties into this aspect of historical fascination, as I tell the story of Sarah Winchester and her crushed hopes of a happy family she never got to have, the poor dear - and because of this I see her as a human being. A friend. Humans are social animals, and I chose an anthropology major rather than a history major for... well, multiple reasons, but one of them being that I like people. People fascinate me far more than battles and treaties and monuments.

But the problem with people today is I don't understand them. I've always had trouble relating to other people due to my history with various mental illnesses. I've never been able to understand people. But historical figures are dead. They're fixed in time, letting me learn about them without them changing constantly before my eyes. Letting me care about them without worrying about them leaving me forever.

And as a history fan sometimes I can do weird things.

For example, yesterday was Alexander Hamilton's birthday, either his 259th or 261st (there is argument as to which year he was born because he may have lied to make himself seem older so he seemed more distinguished and experienced, or he may have lied at another point to make himself seem younger, and we're not sure which).

Call This a Statement of Purpose...

In six months (give or take about 4 days) I'm going to be completely changing my life, leaving the west coast where I've come of age behind and selling most of my belongings to go chase a new dream in New York City.

I know, I know, everyone and their mom has, at some point, entertained dreams about dropping everything and moving to New York City. I mean, what, with shows like "Friends" and "Sex and the City" and "The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt" shoving that narrative down our throats, it's common enough in our culture to entertain such fantasies. (Not that I expect my life to be like "Friends", other than that one line in the theme song - "Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's D.O.A.!")

It's not like I think I'm any different from any other human being who wants to do this.

Except that I'm not following a dream, per se. I mean, I kind of am. There are great grad schools over there for what I want to pursue. But... I also am trying to escape.

I love San Jose, I do. I love my job at the world-famous Winchester Mystery House. I love many of my friends dearly. I love my cat. But at the same time, I often feel like a ghost haunting my own body. My bones are only hostels for the spirit of a person I never really was in the first place. I like it here... but I'm stagnating here. I'm stifled. I'm pushed down, forced to haunt this life that doesn't quite always feel like mine - my mother doesn't know me at all, she knows the daughter she never had, who she wanted me to be. She doesn't know my interests, she just shoves me towards hers. I can't talk to her about gender stuff or sexuality stuff or religion stuff. She thinks I'm making a mistake. She thinks my whole life was a mistake. Sometimes I think she thinks I was a mistake.

When Sarah, my best friend and the light of my life, first told me she wanted me to move to New York with her - even if we did just end up "two broke idiots together", in her words - of course I jumped at that chance.

Of course I'm terrified of this big move. I'm not naïve enough to think that I'm gonna get over there and suddenly be a lesbian Carrie Bradshaw. Unlike so many people with these dreams, it's not the city itself that enchants me. It's...

Maybe I won't feel so much like a ghost haunting my own skeleton once I'm out on my own and living with someone who accepts my identity instead of constantly expressing doubt about my life choices, my career path, my sexuality. I'm having a second coming-of-age in a way. And of course it isn't easy. It's hard navigating this labyrinth of self with my family constantly making it about how inconvenient my identity is for them. But any time I try to explain this to them, they act like I'm attacking him. It's frustrating to constantly be robbed of one's own humanity like that.

And as scary as the future is sometimes, at the same time I am so ready to exist in that world, to exist as myself, a living and breathing entity rather than some sort of revenant in an oppressive and suffocating home environment. I feel more at home with Sarah than I do with my family who doesn't make any effort to know me at all.

That's what this blog is. To document my big move and "second coming of age", yes, but also as a love letter - and a bittersweet good bye - to my life here in San Jose. To the me I am now.

In six months I'll be in New York. It'll be fast paced and different and scary but at least I'll be myself.

-Nym-