Plant Symbolism - What Plants Whisper
I’ve always loved being surrounded by plants. Some sit on my windowsill, some trail from shelves, and others just show up in unexpected places — in a friend’s bouquet, on a walk, in old stories I somehow remember. But only recently did I start wondering: Why these plants? Why do they feel like they carry something more than beauty?
Turns out, for centuries, people have turned to plants not just for medicine or food — but for meaning. They’ve been messengers when words felt too sharp, too risky, or simply out of reach. Different cultures, different times, and yet… similar themes. Love. Protection. Letting go. Beginning again.
Let me take you through some of the places I found them — and maybe you’ll recognize something too.
🌎 Before Books and Bouquets: The Plant Wisdom of Indigenous Traditions
What I find so grounding in Indigenous plant teachings — whether from the Americas, the Pacific, or beyond — is how plants are treated more like family than decoration. They’re respected, not owned. Spoken to, not just used.
◊ Native American stories
Here, plants are more than symbolic — they’re sacred.
- Sage is burned to clear energy, but also to invite wisdom.
- Sweetgrass is braided like hair — each strand representing mind, body, and spirit, woven in kindness.
- Tobacco is offered with prayers, never casually used.
- Cedar protects — a deep, anchoring kind of protection.
- Corn isn’t just food, it’s a life force. It’s part of creation stories.
◊ The Aztecs
Their connection to plants was rich with ritual.
- Cacao was a sacred gift — not a treat, but a bridge to the divine.
- Marigolds were believed to light the way for ancestors.
- Chili peppers meant power, vitality — the spark that cuts through fear.
- And always, maize — central to everything, like a heartbeat in the soil.
◊ Māori traditions
In Aotearoa, plants are connected to ancestry, to land, to spirit.
- Harakeke (flax) isn’t just for weaving — it’s used to teach family values. The inner shoot is the child, protected by parents.
- Kawakawa is used to heal — body and soul.
- Pōhutukawa, that stunning red-blossomed tree near the sea, is where spirits are said to leave this world.
- Rimu, tall and quiet, carries sacred energy.
These aren’t just nice stories. They’re reminders that plants have always had presence, even when we stopped listening.
🏰 Medieval Europe: Gardens of Lore and Protection
I used to think medieval times were all cold stone and hard rules. But the gardens of that time tell a different story — one where plants were seen as both medicine and magic.
- Rue was planted near the door to ward off evil — or maybe just regret.
- Yarrow went into wedding clothes to bless the couple and ease the nervous heart.
- Foxglove, beautiful and dangerous, was linked to fairies — not always the kind you want around.
- Wormwood helped drive away bad spirits — and bad dreams.
- Thyme was given to knights for courage.
- Violets whispered of modesty, of love that didn’t ask for too much.
- St. John’s Wort bloomed near midsummer and was believed to protect against sadness — maybe it still does.
There’s something tender about how plants were trusted back then — as allies in a world that didn’t always feel safe.
👑 The Victorian Era: Feelings in Full Bloom (But Still in Code)
If you’ve ever received flowers and wondered what they meant, you’re not alone. In Victorian England, bouquets were basically emotional encrypted messages.
- Red roses — love, of course. But the deep kind.
- Camellias — admiration, elegance, maybe even respect.
- Lilacs — the first flutter of love.
- Peonies — beauty, but also bashfulness.
- Snapdragons — strength hidden behind softness.
- Daisies — innocence and a kind of hopeful “let’s begin again.”
- Hydrangeas — sometimes thankfulness, sometimes coldness — context mattered.
They used this language to say what couldn’t be said out loud. And I think there’s something kind of beautiful about that. A bouquet was never just pretty — it was a secret told in petals.
🕔 India: Sacred, Healing, and Still Alive
What I love about the symbolism of plants in Indian culture is that it’s not just ancient — it’s still lived. The meanings aren’t lost in time. They’re folded into rituals, daily life, even doorways.
- Tulsi (holy basil) grows in courtyards, cared for like a person. She represents devotion — and the strength of the feminine.
- Neem is bitter, but healing. Like the truth.
- Mango leaves hang above doors to welcome good energy.
- Lotus rises from mud but stays untouched by it — spiritual detachment in full bloom.
- Sandalwood cools and calms — its scent lingers like memory.
- Ashoka tree is the “no sorrow” tree — planted in temples, it quietly reminds us that pain can pass.
These aren’t just symbols. They’re invitations — to be mindful, to pause, to honor.
We’ve lost a lot of the formal language of plants, but I think, deep down, we still know.
A snake plant sits in my hallway. It’s bold and upright, quiet but unyielding. Someone once told me it’s a plant for survivors. It doesn’t need much, but it stands tall anyway.
I keep lavender near my bed. It softens the edges of long days, reminding me to exhale, to rest without guilt.
My orchid is the most delicate thing I own — it blooms when it’s ready, not when I expect it to. It’s taught me about timing, and beauty that doesn’t rush.
And then there’s ivy, trailing down shelves and stretching toward the light. It’s wild and persistent. It finds a way, even in corners.
Maybe the plants we surround ourselves with now are not just for style — maybe they’re reflections of what we need, or what we’re hoping for.
There’s a quiet power in knowing what plants have meant — and still mean. They’ve always been here, whispering. Through rituals, medicine, poetry, and prayer.
And maybe, just maybe, the ones we’re drawn to… are the ones that are speaking to something inside us.
So next time you reach for a plant — to gift, to grow, to smell or sit beside — pause for a second. Ask what it might be saying.
It probably has a message just for you.