Listening to Ginkgo

Open palm, soft and wide.
Golden threads pulse, steady, slow.
Live. This is the way.

Entering Relationship

I entered a dieta with Ginkgo biloba not to seek answers, but to listen.

What drew me to ginkgo was not a symptom or a goal, but a quieter curiosity — a sense that this ancient tree carried a rhythm my body was ready to remember.

Her medicine is often associated with memory. I was drawn to her brilliantly yellow leaves, the softness of their curves, and her ancient, prehistoric wisdom.

What I Mean by Dieta

For me, a dieta is not about discipline or purification.
It is a relational practice — a period of intentional listening, simplification, and restraint that allows something subtle to come forward.

It asks less of the mind and more of the body.
Less effort. More attention.

A few days before the Gregorian calendar New Year — the day I planned to begin — I sat with her in my backyard to share my intentions, offering song and tobacco.

The next day, she reciprocated with a message — a vision in my mind. She asked that I sacrifice my morning ritual of coffee and cream.

On the first day of the year, I offered the last of my coffee and cream, and the ceremony began.

I ate a simple, bland diet — no salt, no caffeine. I limited time on social media and other modern-day distractions. I created space for her, and for the opening of this relationship.

The Felt Experience

Rather than dramatic shifts, ginkgo arrived as a quality.

A steadiness.
A softening without collapse.
A sense of circulation — not just in the body, but through bones, joints, and awareness itself.

Nothing needed to move faster.
Support simply reached places that had been waiting.

I noticed change not by intensity, but by pacing.

Teachings That Emerged

What ginkgo offered did not come as instructions, but as orientation.

Longevity without urgency.
Clarity without force.
Support rather than effort.

There was something primordial in this — not ancient as an idea, but ancient as a way of being. A remembering of how life organizes itself when it is not rushed.

One night, I awoke with a deep line of tension running from my gut down through my left leg. In that moment, instead of fear or worry, I instinctively placed my hands on my body and told myself:

I am.
I am okay.
There is nothing to fix.
I will stay.

Eventually, my body drifted back into sleep.

In the days that followed, I found myself gently pausing to create space for deeper breaths — curling up on the couch, resting, playing Super Mario Brothers with my husband.

Over and over, I received the same quiet reassurance:
It’s okay to lean into support.
Meet yourself where you are.
Help yourself through, gently.
Show up.
Be consistent.
Be kind.

Stillness and Listening

Ginkgo did not ask me to do more.
It invited me to widen.

In stillness, information arrived — not as thoughts to analyze, but as quiet knowing.
A sense of being supported, rather than something I had to produce, perform, or push myself toward.

This way of listening reminds me that change doesn’t need to be forced — it needs to be met.

Integration

After the formal dieta ended, the rhythm did not disappear.

What lingered was subtle:
a steadier pace,
a softer internal tone,
a growing trust in slowness.

Some things are still integrating.
Some teachings are still arriving.

Ginkgo showed me that longevity and strength live in gentleness and support.
The longer path asks for responsiveness, not resistance.

Closing

Ginkgo does not rush wisdom.
It waits until support can arrive with it.

Clarity comes when we stay with ourselves long enough for it to emerge.

💛