What Weeds in Your Life Need Pulling?
May has arrived like an old friend carrying a basket of possibility and a bouquet of wildflowers. There is something about this month—the way it rolls in with more sunshine than sense, the way the air smells like second chances—that feels like an open door. The Earth is shaking off its sleep, stretching its limbs, and unfurling with quiet confidence. Everything seems to be reaching upward, eager to grow. And perhaps, deep down, so are we.
For those who follow the stars—or who simply felt like the past two months steamrolled through their emotional landscape with all the grace of a runaway lawnmower—the recent eclipse season was no joke. There was a solar eclipse to wake us up, a lunar eclipse to wring us out, and enough inner upheaval to make even the most grounded person wonder if the cosmos was using us as a science experiment.
But now, after the dust has settled and the sky has stitched itself back together, May steps forward with her hands on her hips and says, “Alright, darling. Now what are you going to do with all this space?” This, it turns out, is the perfect question.
Because every soul, whether it is polished or slightly frayed, has a garden within. Some call it the spirit. Others refer to it as the emotional body, the subconscious, or the inner sanctum. But no matter what name you give it, it is there—living and breathing inside you, shaped by your experiences, your stories, and your dreams.
And like any good garden, it needs tending.
There are seasons when all we can do is survive. Weeds take root when no one is looking. They creep in through heartbreak, disappointment, fear, or the slow erosion of boundaries. They might disguise themselves as practicality or people-pleasing. They might look like overcommitment or that one friendship you keep out of guilt rather than joy. You know the one.
Sometimes, they are not even weeds. They are plants that once served a purpose but have now outgrown their usefulness. Like that ivy of perfectionism—lush and determined, but choking out every breath of joy.
May does not demand that you bulldoze your entire soul and start over. It asks you to take a good look at what is growing and decide—gently, lovingly, and perhaps with a little ruthlessness—what needs to stay and what has worn out its welcome.
This is the month when we pull on our metaphorical gloves, grab the trowel of introspection, and poke around in the soil of our lives. It is messy work, to be sure. See those beautiful roses over there? Yeh, those. Look closer. That’s right, they protect themselves with razor sharp thorns. No one emerges from weeding unscathed. You will get dirt under your nails. You might uncover a few forgotten hurts buried beneath and discover why you are always busy and on the go. You might even find an old goal from 2017 still sprouting despite your best efforts to ignore it. The truth is, when it’s quiet around us and there is nowhere to go, nothing to do, we are left with only one option–to take a deep look and see who is lurking inside of us.
But make no mistake—this is sacred work.
Every time you name a pattern that no longer serves you, you make room for healing. Every time you say, “I deserve better than this,” you create space for grace. And every time you choose yourself—quietly, fiercely, without apology—you plant something beautiful. So, my darling, it’s time to shovel the… manure… and get the beds ready. The seed catalog just arrived and it’s time to plant.
Of course, no one said this process would be tidy. Healing rarely is. You may find yourself crying over a cup of tea, laughing mid-meltdown, or talking to your houseplants like they are your spiritual advisors. This is all perfectly normal. In fact, it is encouraged.
So where does one begin?
Begin by noticing what has become overgrown. Are there parts of your life that feel cluttered, not just with stuff, but with obligations that no longer align with your heart? Are there thoughts you repeat to yourself like bad elevator music—subtle but maddening?
Perhaps your weed is called self-doubt. Or maybe it answers to the name of comparison. It might show up as avoidance, procrastination, or that little voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like your high school gym teacher saying you will never measure up. That’s right–today is the day we climb that rope up to the top of the ceiling.
Whatever it is, May invites you to name it. And then, slowly and steadily, begin the gentle process of letting it go.
If you feel brave, grab a journal and write down the things you are ready to release. If you feel silly, talk to yourself out loud. Light a candle. Burn the list. Dance in your living room to a song that reminds you of who you were before the world told you who to be. This is your garden. There are no rules here, only rhythms.
And while you are clearing space, remember this: nature abhors a vacuum. Once you pull a weed, something new will want to grow in its place. Be intentional about what you plant. Choose seeds of peace, courage, joy, and purpose. Tend them with care. Water them with kindness, love, and compassion. Give them the sunlight of your attention. Over time, they will grow.
In this season of longer days and warming skies, there is a natural momentum that supports your transformation. You do not have to force it. You simply have to align with it. Walk barefoot. Sit with your thoughts instead of running from them. Laugh more. Cry when you need to. And for the love of compost, stop apologizing for needing time to bloom.
The Earth is not in a rush, and neither are you.
Let May be your invitation to pause and prune. Let it be a reminder that your soul, like any garden, is a work in progress. There will always be weeds. But there will also be wildflowers. And sometimes, the messiest beds birth the most surprising beauty.
So tell us, what are you noticing in your inner garden this month? Are you discovering old fears in full bloom? Or are you surprised by something lovely peeking through the cracks? Have you already started pulling a few metaphorical weeds—or are you still circling them, deciding where to begin?
Feel free to share in the comments below. Your story might be the spark that helps someone else find the courage to begin their own weeding journey.
Do not worry if you feel like you are not quite finished. Next week, we will return to the garden together and explore soulful ways to plant new intentions, offer tips for nurturing emotional growth, and share ideas to help you keep your energy fresh and your heart in bloom. There will be more insight and probably a few metaphors involving tomatoes.
But for now, take this moment to look inward. Notice what is growing. Ask what needs your attention. And most of all, be kind to yourself in the process.
Every garden has its season. This one is yours.
