What If Gentle Witnessing Is the Medicine?

Tamara Schmidt – Experiential Herbalist & Nature Therapy Guide

I’ve been spending time with violet lately—watching it emerge quietly at the edges of paths and under trees. A disruption in the green of lawns, with its pretty purple or white flowers and heart-shaped leaves.

This little plant has been teaching me a lot.
About healing, yes—but also about how strength doesn’t always look like force.

Violet is a caring friend when facing some of life’s biggest challenges.
It soothes a cough, cools inflamed skin, and helps the body release what it no longer needs—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

It’s a diuretic. An expectorant. An ally for urinary tract infections and skin conditions like eczema or acne. But more than that, it’s a quiet reminder that soothing isn’t the opposite of strength.

Sometimes we need precision. Action. Urgency.
But sometimes… we just need to be met with care.
We need someone—or something—to bear witness to our experience without rushing to fix it.

This witnessing is profound.

This is also the heart of my coaching work: I offer a grounded presence where others can share their truth, be deeply seen, and begin to heal. Often, it’s not advice we need—but someone to be with us as we remember our own wisdom.

And that’s what violet offers.
A kind of quiet medicine. A cooling presence.
A witnessing. A place to land when the world is too loud and distracted.
Calm and peaceful focus.

It’s clear. It’s kind.
It doesn’t push to fix—it holds, as if it already trusts the answer is within you.

It’s steady. Trustworthy.
And with gentleness, it is transformative.

Lately, I’ve been wondering:
What if this is the very medicine some of us need?

Healing the Self: Tenderness Is a Valid Path

Violet is cool and moist in the first degree—a comfort for irritation, inflammation, and heat in the body and spirit.
It gently clears what’s stuck, softens what’s rigid, and cools what’s been smoldering too long beneath the surface.
It’s used for coughs and congestion, for inflamed skin and urinary discomfort. But it does all this not with force, but through soothing presence.

That’s something I’ve come to really admire about this plant.
I’ve picked violet leaves and flowers for tea and salads, and I’m always surprised by how true its texture is to its nature. The leaves feel cool, like lettuce, in your hands. The flavour is mild, cooling, even a little sweet. Not showy—just quietly nourishing.

I’ve read that older leaves may contain more saponins and can be too intense, but in my experience, when I harvest those bright green, newer leaves, they taste fresh and vibrant. They’ve never let me down.

What continues to surprise me, though, is this:
Gentle remedies like violet are often incredibly effective.
Clinical herbalists have seen good results with violet—sometimes in serious cases. It’s not just a spring garnish. It’s a teacher.

And what it teaches is this:
Tender care is a valid path to healing.

The next time you drink violet tea, or scatter the leaves and blossoms into a salad, notice what happens in your body.
And maybe ask yourself:

What if being gentle doesn’t mean I’m not serious about healing?
What if softness isn’t weakness—but clarity, and intention, and strength?
What if I can move in the right direction, set boundaries, and still be kind to myself?

🖋 Journaling Prompt:

Where in my life am I confusing harshness with strength?
What part of me is asking for ease—not to be erased, but to be seen and supported?

🌱 Nature Invitation:

Sit or walk slowly near a patch of violet—if you’re lucky enough to find one. Observe how it grows. Low to the ground, heart-shaped, unobtrusive, but quietly radiant.
Ask: What would it be like to move through the world like this?

Healing in Relationship: Trust Opens, Pressure Closes

There are parts of us—and parts of others—that only open in the presence of trust.
Not urgency. Not persuasion. Just trust.

Violet doesn’t respond to force. It unfolds when the conditions are right.
It grows low to the ground, not reaching upward in a hurry, but slowly expanding where it feels safe. Its flowers appear quietly, sometimes even hidden.
And yet, they are radiant. Strong in their compassion.

As a flower essence, violet is often used to support people who feel isolated in the presence of others.
Those who long for connection but feel overwhelmed by closeness, afraid they might lose themselves in the crowd.

Violet helps us stay rooted in ourselves while taking harsh edges off of our walls.
It encourages openness, yes—but not at the expense of our inner sanctuary.
It lets us connect and stay intact.
To witness and be witnessed.

This is also how I think of my own work, especially in coaching and nature therapy.
Holding a space that’s clear, kind, and grounded—not to fix or direct, but to allow.
And in that allowance, something opens.
Something heals.

Not all relationships need advice.
Some just need presence.
Some just need the steadiness of a violet: listening, grounded, quietly in bloom.

🖋 Journaling Prompt:

Where in my relationships am I trying to force something to bloom?
What would it look like to trust the natural unfolding—of myself, or someone I care about?

🌱 Nature Invitation:

Find a spot where violets grow near other plants—like under trees or at the edge of a forest.
Notice how they make space for themselves without dominating.
Sit with that image.
What might it mean to “take up space” with compassionate presence?

Cultural Healing: Gentle Doesn’t Mean Passive

Violet grows where it can, disrupting the monotony of lawns, sidewalk cracks, and shaded spaces with heart-shaped leaves and flashes of purple. It’s simple existence and growth creates change where it is.

It’s a symbol of innocence in folklore—of trust, purity, and quiet strength.
It’s even considered a bringer of good fortune. But fortune, in this case, doesn’t mean winning the race.
It means finding what’s real. What’s right. What’s quietly blooming in the margins.

Violet discourages growth in the wrong direction.
That’s a message I think a lot of us need.

We live in a culture that celebrates constant motion, high output, strong opinions, fast fixes.
But violet reminds us that not all movement is meaningful.
Growth for the sake of growth can become its own kind of illness.

There is wisdom in the pause.
There is clarity in the coolness.
There is strength in not going where you weren’t meant to go.

To choose a slower path—one rooted in care, in intuition, in gracious boundaries—is an act of resistance.
To soften your own heart in a harsh world is not weakness. It’s rebellion. It’s realignment.

And maybe, that’s the most powerful medicine of all.

🖋 Journaling Prompt:

What does “growing in the right direction” look like for me right now?
What distractions or expectations might be pulling me off course?

🌱 Nature Invitation:

Look for violets where they weren’t planted on purpose. What does their quiet presence teach you about finding your own way—without pushing, without asking for permission?

Closing Reflection

Violet is a small plant with a big lesson:
You can be clear and gracious.
You can be open and protected.
You can heal without breaking yourself down.

Gentleness doesn’t mean lack of direction. It doesn’t mean you’re lost.
It might just mean you’re listening deeply enough to know where you’re truly meant to grow.

Ready to Be Witnessed?

If this reflection on violet resonated with you—if you’re craving space to be seen, and to reconnect with what’s true—I offer one-to-one sessions rooted in presence, nature-based wisdom, and deep listening.

These coaching and nature therapy sessions aren’t about fixing.
They’re about remembering your own strength—and finding the clarity that comes when someone truly witnesses you.

🌿 You can explore available times and book a session here:
👉 Schedule a Session

I’d be honoured to walk beside you.