The plant sitting beside you isn’t your counsellor. Not your wise teacher. Not just a collection of useful chemicals.
It doesn’t exist to sort you out.
It’s there to be with you. Like family. Like the person next door. Like another creature sharing this patch of earth.
Domei doesn’t ask you to believe in anything particular. It just asks you to do something.
To pay attention. To come back tomorrow. To stay a while longer than feels comfortable.
You won’t find any smugness here. No peacocking about with spiritual credentials.
No hushed conversations about who’s more “connected” or “aligned with plant consciousness.”
This isn’t playing dress-up with someone else’s traditions.
It’s not fantasy or a brand you stick on tote bags, nor is it about spiritual posturing on social media.
It’s just a practice.
Mud under fingernails. Quiet enough to hear leaves shift. Done mostly when nobody’s watching. No frills or nonsense.