May: The Tending

Looking toward May, I can’t help but anticipate a tending.

Coming from the space I’ve been occupying,
the fallow, the seed planted,
I find myself asking what this asks of me next.

When I think of the seed, there isn’t a sudden bloom.
No clear moment where everything shifts into color.

Not yet.

If April was the seed,
quietly taking root beneath the surface,
then May feels like what comes after.

Not emergence.

But care.
Attention.
Relationship.

The bloom takes time to break through the surface,
but even unseen, it still needs tending.

April asked me to trust what was beginning,
even when I couldn’t see it.
To be like the seed.

May asks me not just to trust,
but to tend.

To notice where it lives in my life.
To feel how it responds
to presence…
and to absence.

This month doesn’t feel like growth
in the way I was taught to recognize it.

There’s no urgency here.
No pressure to become something new.

And still, that’s where I feel the tension.

Urgency is familiar.
Urgency is comfortable.
But this in-between space, this unfolding,
asks something else.

It asks for alchemy.

The card for May is Art.

Art represents alchemical transformation.
Not balance, but blending.
A synthesis of opposing forces into something new

A willingness to let things touch
that I once kept separate.

Joy and grief.
Strength and tenderness.
Openness and discernment.

Not choosing between them,
but learning to hold them together
without losing myself.

In alchemy, you don’t get gold without fire and lead.
Being new doesn’t mean being pure.

It means being integrated.

I’m starting to see that integration
is not a single moment.

It’s a practice.

Something that happens gradually—
in how I respond to people,
in how I allow myself to be seen,
in how I show up
without abandoning what I know to be true.

There is vulnerability in this.

To be in relationship, real relationship,
requires an honesty
that feels unfamiliar.

It doesn’t explain or justify.
It simply… is.

April rooted something in me.

May is asking me to care for it
in the presence of others.

To let it exist beyond just myself.

To trust that what I’ve carried,
what I’ve survived,
doesn’t need to be hidden
to be held with care.

The most vulnerable part of a plant’s life
is just after it breaks the soil,
before it’s strong enough to weather a storm.

This is where I am.

It is not the month of visible becoming.

It’s the month of learning
how to be
with what has already become.

The seed is no longer alone.

It is in relationship
with the world around it,
and all the things that shape
what it turns into.

And so am I.

Always,
Your Trusted Friend ❤︎

“The Seed” Tarot Spread

Affirmation:

“The acorn doesn’t question if it will become the oak; it just becomes. And so do I.”