The Scent That Finds You First

Fellow Seekers-

There are plants that ask to be sought out, and there are plants that find you. Lilac (Syringa vulgaris) is firmly the latter.

I learned this from my mother. She had a particular relationship with lilacs long before she had one grow in a garden of her own — the kind of relationship that requires no planning, only attentiveness. She would spot them along a park path, the car barely slowing before she was out the door, returning moments later with a loose handful of purple blooms, their fragrance already filling the small space between us. There was something almost instinctual about it. A call and an answering.

When she and my father finally bought their home, they discovered they had inherited rows of lilacs along the property line — pale purple, white, and deep violet, an entire lineage of them. Each spring morning of my teen years, I would wake to find a vase of freshly cut lilacs placed near my bed while I slept. I didn’t have language for it then, but I understand it now as an act of love that was also something more: an initiation into the sensory world, an offering from the plant, passed through my mother’s hands into mine.

A plant of the senses

Lilac doesn’t speak to us in concepts. They speak in the body — in the sudden arrest of breath when a warm breeze carries their scent, in the way time seems to briefly suspend. Before you’ve registered the plant with your eyes, your nervous system has already begun to respond. This is their medicine: immediate, somatic, undeniable.

This is also, I think, why lilac has long been associated with Venus — with pleasure, beauty, and the radical act of being present in a body. In an age that rewards us for staying in our heads, lilac pulls us back down into our senses. They ask us to slow. To inhale. To let what is beautiful actually land.

Lilac doesn’t ask us to let go of what we feel. They ask us to breathe through it.

On change and the intoxicating now

Lilac blooms briefly and then is gone — a matter of weeks, sometimes less. They do not linger. And yet the impression they leave is lasting enough to shape a childhood, to become the scent memory that opens something in you twenty years later at the farmers market or along a sidewalk in May.

There is wisdom in this impermanence. Some plant allies work with us on the edge of change — not to push us forward or talk us out of our fear, but to return us to the present moment long enough to catch our breath. To remind us that we are here, now, and that now contains something worth noticing.

This is the gift of the sensory world: it cannot be worried over. You cannot experience the scent of lilac from six months in the future. You can only receive it where you are standing.

An invitation

If lilac grows near you, I encourage you to make time with them this season. Not a goal-oriented time — not a foraging run or a tincture project, though those have their place — but a slow, unhurried visit. Sit near them. Breathe with them. Let your nervous system do what it knows how to do when given permission.

If you are someone who tends toward overthinking, toward vigilance, toward the particular kind of exhaustion that comes from trying to control what cannot be controlled — lilac is for you. They are gentle. They are overcoming in the most unhurried way. They ask nothing except that you show up in your body and let them do what they do.

I’ll be making a flower essence from our first blooms this year, and I’ll share more from that work as it unfolds. But for now — go find them. Let the scent find you first.

What plant allies have been calling to you this spring? I’d love to hear in the comments.

Stay wild and true,
Emily

PS- I appreciate your continued support shown through subscribing, commenting or liking my posts. Please consider sharing this post with a friend. I would love to hear your thoughts on our shared world.

Disclaimer:

**Climate aware work is challenging. If you feel like you need more support please text the crisis line at 741741.

The purpose of this information is for educational purposes only. Always seek the advice of your own Medical Provider and/or Mental Health Provider regarding any questions or concerns you have about your specific health. As always, please use common sense.

Services provided by Emily Grendahl Risinger and Still Wild Healing LLC are for educational purposes only. These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This information is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) classifies herbs as dietary supplements/food products, not medicines. Consult your healthcare provider before using any herbal supplements, especially if you are pregnant, nursing, have a medical condition, or take medications.