Passion Flower
Medicine for the Great Dreaming
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The passion flower’s corona or crown which is akin to the deck of a ship (the helm) comes in several colours, but the one most common to me was the violet filaments. Passion flowers are erotic, the true stereotype of exotic (tying with the bird of paradise) and otherworldly. They are symmetrical, radial delights like little mandalas hiding under the heavy growth of leaves, peeking out of their green habitats.
I.
When I was seven or eight years old, my parents decided to build a wrap-around porch onto the northern end of our house overlooking Admiralty Bay, our main harbour on Bequia. This shifted my family’s attention to the outside. No longer were we designated to our gallery, facing the road and all of the traffic that a seven square mile island could muster back in the 80s; we now had more privacy, and with it, a large section of concrete to come to terms with.
I remember loving the area and its muted colours of pale white and dark mustard brown, a stark contrast to the burnt orange tiles and aquamarine walls that have been our front gallery’s colour since my dawn. I was fascinated by how much further east I could go, to view west and the sunset. We lived in the hug of the harbour so our home never saw the sunrise, but the sunsets, we witnessed so many during our suppers at the ending of days. I also remember my parents bringing home a little vine and making sure I was present to see its shiny leaves dancing, so verdant and green. My mother and I planted this vine, a passion fruit, and my family watched it grow.
“The channel is opened, so that energies are not held within but are released. Any negativity, such as fear, resulting from these higher states is released into the earth. There is a tendency for the individual to be better protected from negative or difficult vibrations that emanate from electronic devices.”
In my mind, I told myself the story that in my family I was the one with the green thumb. I grew up believing that this was true without ever having the chance to really get into the depth of planting, weeding, caring, figuring out soil type and all of the other things gardeners or aficionados would be interested in. At seven, my job was to water the passion fruit.
In 2-twos, its tendrils were inching up to where we lived. It wrapped itself gingerly across the balusters and a few months later, or years (after all this is the wonderful thing about memory), it had the entire front porch covered down.
During the blooming season, I would park my body on the warm tiles to count the flowers and to push my nose into their liquid love scent. The aroma would waft into our home on the wind, often carried by a lovely Christmas breeze. The bees and ants came too, to celebrate in this seasonal goodness, and like everyone I was in love with this alien bloom. My mother, however, was paranoid that the vine would attract snakes to our home—I was never concerned with this. Maybe I was naive, but there are no venomous snakes on Bequia, and though I was always deathly afraid of lizards (a phobia matrilineally inherited towards house geckos), I never feared snakes despite them being cold-blooded, terrifying to most and slick.
The passion flower’s corona or crown which is akin to the deck of a ship (the helm) comes in several colours, but the one most common to me was the violet filaments. Passion flowers are erotic, the true stereotype of exotic (tying with the bird of paradise) and otherworldly. They are symmetrical, radial delights like little mandalas hiding under the heavy growth of leaves, peeking out of their green habitats.
Soon thereafter when I was a bit older, I did encounter a black snake nestled in the trellis. By then, I had become distant and hardened to its seasonal medicine… by the time I got to my late teenage years, the vine was chopped down.
Passion fruit on the farm of Lennox Lampkin in St. Vincent. January 2020
A bloom from the bloomless Bethell-Bennett tree in Nassau.
II.
The passion fruit was introduced into the Caribbean region over 100 years ago. The name refers to the resemblance of the flowers to certain features of the crucifixion—the corona to the crown of thorns, the stigma to the nails.
The story goes that in 1569, in Peru, Spanish doctor Nicolas Monardes 'discovered' this plant. It eventually made it into the hands of Spanish missionaries, who saw the flower as a physical representation of the crucifixion of Christ. The three stigmas represented the 'nails of crucifixion', the coronal filaments were the 'crown of thorns', the five stamens were the wounds, and the ten sepals were representative of ten of the disciples, minus Judas and Peter who got left out due to their behaviour.
The passionflower was clearly used as a teaching tool to tell the story of Christ to the indigenous people, and a weapon of indoctrination into Christianity. This is just an example of the myriad ways in which the West has colonised the signatures of the natural world.
Passion fruit belongs to the family Passifloraceae, which also includes the barbadine or granadilla and is cultivated widely across the Caribbean. There are several varieties, from the common purple and yellow one that is prevalent in the Caribbean, to the more exotic “Martinique Pink” and other hybrids which have a greater agricultural yield. In Brazil, the Maracuja is a staple of tropical living, with some varieties growing to the size of grapefruits, and rather than bearing the sour or bitter flavour profile, it is as sweet as nectar.
In the more esoteric realm, the passionflower has been used by shamans, curanderos/curanderas, healers, diviners, witches, seers, new age workers, rootworkers and herbalists as a conductor. It is a plant that helps attune the mind to higher frequencies, sharpening the antennae of the body to download transmissions from the divine or etheric realm.
This means that it is quite good medicine for the central nervous system, and within contemporary herbalism, it is a powerful plant ally to many who have challenges around rest, nourishment and those cautious about technological advancements in daily life. Passionflower's mandala-like bloom represents the internal quiet that this herb can help manifest.
III.
In late 2018, after the ravages of several hurricanes across The Bahamas, the seasons were in mayhem, asynchronous—or maybe nature was synchronising her energies, and I was again being pulled to the plant. A friend of mine would have me over for dinner often, and I fell in love with a vine in their driveway. Week after week, I would pick ripened fruit from the ground and would be enticed by the waft of the blooms and how alive the vine was. On windy days it would hold on to the blooms, and on sunny days bees and other flying insects would bombard it. We had drinks, desserts, cakes and breads with the nectar of this fruit...and week after week, the blooms and bounty persisted.
I started to move into the interior world of this plant in early 2019, making medicine, tincture and essences from its flowers. After the opening of my last formal exhibition as Chief Curator, I was thrown into the hands of this plant. I meditated with it, sat with its wisdom and used its sacred knowledge to help me transition and release anger, resentment, pain and confusion. I used it to help me unlock my heart, and as such connected more intimately with the sanctuary I was living in for four years, unbeknownst to me. It opened up the garden, its energetic hum and its life force to me. No longer did I keep company with my bedroom; the ground outside became a bed, the elixir evaporated all the fear from me.
My imagination became a night ally, it allowed me to search into the depths of my dreams to find rest and comfort with my ancestors. I don’t attribute all of this to the passionflower as it was supplemental medicine, but this connection provoked memory and eased me back into the past, a place that I feared going.
I used this medicine daily for months, to aid in my transition of profession and home. It was a balm, helping assimilate whatever energies would have prevented advancement.
Here are some accounts of the use of passionflower, recorded from Druid text to Ayahuasca ceremonial practices:
"The Lemurians, as they saw these energies in their rituals become permeated into the various plants, felt the loving and joyous energies from passion flower and from its vines and roots. This created a resonance, so passion flower was often used to close ceremonies. The resonance was experienced and an energy was created almost like a shield, ball of light, or intense area of energy that was then allowed to sink gently into the Earth. This sometimes gave people who used this herb a greater reverence for Earth as it related to God. This is the plant's karmic purpose today, to allow this more deeply and easily into people's lives."
IV.
In herbalism of today, if you go into an apothecary or a botánica, you can quickly acquire the plant in its dried format, including the leaves, flowers, peels and stems which are all used as medicine in different ways. “The leaves mainly contain the alkaloids. The flower can be made into a sedative and antispasmodic. Passionflower is also used to treat nervous disorders, bronchial conditions, arthritis, asthma, insomnia, gastrointestinal disorders and menopausal symptoms.”
It’s wider properties are akin to sedating, nourishing, relaxing and calming the Central Nervous System. It aids with sleep, is good for spasms, and relieves tension in the gastrointestinal tract, as well as relaxes the muscles in the bronchioles.
I use this dried plant material to dream, to move into the great dreaming and to access downloads and connections more easily. I frequently mix it with dried damiana, another plant ally, to aid in more intense relaxation and clarity. For some, it clears the way for deeper astral dreaming. I am still walking through the middle realm with this medicine. I find its tonic rich, subtle and easy to miss if you aren’t paying attention.