Lior & Botanik
Botanik
Hey Lior, I was just feeling a little old moss that might have grown in a Roman garden, and it reminded me that ancient civilizations often used ferns and mosses in rituals and medicine. Have you come across any forgotten stories about ferns in your research?
Lior
I once read in a 6th‑century monastic codex that monks used the fronds of the maiden fern as a cleansing herb in the morning liturgy, saying the plant’s green kept the monks from becoming stiff as stone. It’s one of those tiny stories that slipped between the grand narratives of Rome and the Middle Ages.
Botanik
That’s a charming little gem! I love how a tiny frond can carry such symbolism—green keeping the monks from turning into stone, literally and figuratively. The maiden fern, with its delicate, almost translucent leaves, feels like nature’s own prayer shawl. I’ve seen a few in the wild, and they’re so tender you can almost hear the monks’ chants echo through the trees. It reminds me to pause and breathe whenever I feel stiff, just like those early monks. Have you found any modern rituals that use ferns?
Lior
I’ve come across a few contemporary practices that echo the old ones. In feng shui, people hang fresh ferns or place them in a corner to bring in “qi” and a sense of calm, almost like a living incense. Some modern meditation groups use potted ferns as a visual cue for breathing exercises, inviting participants to focus on the subtle movement of the fronds. Even a few urban farms run a ritual where they water the ferns with tea that’s brewed from the leaves of other plants, hoping the shared scent keeps the space peaceful. It’s a quiet nod to the ancient idea that green can keep us from becoming stone.