The *Core Nature of Plants
by Kiva Rose

Our relationship to the plants is an ancient one, and we humans are well designed to engage the magic and medicine of the living earth we are a part of. All we need is right here – the vast and verdant world of the plants that speak to us, the extraordinary capacities of our senses with which we listen and the complex cognitive processes that let us learn on a whole body level.

As herbalists, a good portion of our work is in becoming intimate with the living plants that are the vital medicine of our craft. Rather than seeing a plant’s properties as disparate lists of constituent-based properties, we’re usually best off looking for the essential, core nature of each plant. This is not ever only one thing, and just as we cannot accurately define another human being by a single characteristic, it is equally fruitless to attempt to peg a plant as an “anti-inflammatory” or even an “immune stimulant”. No plant is only either of those things, despite how they are marketed on glossy pages and Walmart shelves. When we choose to ignore the other aspects of a plant, we fail to recognize the herb for what it is and thus severely limit ourselves as practitioners and the plant as a potential medicine.

I have yet to work with any plant that has only one use or one defining characteristic. Some plants, especially that are strong with a nearly drug-like action, such as the overt anti-cholinergic effects of some members of the Nightshade family, can easily seem so at first glance. However, upon closer examination and direct experience with the herb we will notice how far-reaching and complex these actions can be in the human body.

Every herb is a living, intelligent, ever-adapting tapestry of response, behavior patterns, unique abilities, and individual quirks that result in a specific personality. This is why a Verbena acts very differently (in our bodies an in the plant community) than say, an Artemisia. Make no mistake, each plant is an individual, even within the larger headings of their botanical families and medicinal properties. Learning to see an herb’s individual nature can help us to understand how it may act as a medicine in any given circumstance and how it may be most applicable without necessarily knowing its exact properties or actions. This is the single best way to learn, on an organoleptic level, the properties and actions of an herb.

Let me be clear that although the core nature I am referring to is reflected in most (if not all) other aspects of the plant, I am specifically referring to it here in relation to the herb as a medicine for humans. Just as when we are speaking of a plant being warming in herbal energetics, we are not saying the plant itself is warm (careful, don’t touch that plant, it’s hot!), we are saying that it has a warming effect on our bodies. Thus, we must constantly keep in mind that we are dealing with a terminology of relationship, and a perspective born of connection rather than isolation or categorization.

The core nature of an herb is made up of its botanical family, habitat, place in an ecology, growth habit, taste (as in acrid and spicy) and other sensory impact (scent, appearance, etc.), energetic tendencies (as in hot, dry and diffusive), vitalist actions (as in circulatory stimulant and diaphoretic), as well as its expression of the uniting anima (or vital force) that animates and enlivens the herb.

Interpretive elements, such as the doctrine of signatures and intuitive impressions are also of use here, especially when they are taken within the context of the whole rather than isolated as the single defining characteristic. Like mainstream medicine, we could attempt to break the nature of the plant down into biochemical components, but the end result would come up just as lacking as if we had tried to understand the whole plant based only on the doctrine of signatures or a homeopathic proving. This is not to belittle the relevance of understanding constituents since they can, especially when keeping the context of the entire plant in mind, provide us with unique insights into the behavior and makeup of herbs. My point is only that, as practicing herbalists, it is in our own (and our clients’) best interest to retain a view of the bigger picture, of the whole of the plant.

Equally important is the realization that plants are not humans, and that it is both unwise and unhelpful for us to pretend that they act, speak and feel as we do. However, plants are complex, sentient, responsive organisms that deserve our respect and attention as we ally with them in the healing process. When I speak of a plant’s nature, I am not referring to some etheric, intangible spirit. The core nature of the plant can be (and is) experienced by the senses and cognitive processes of our body. What we often imagine to be some sort of extra-sensory perception is usually a type of cognition or sensory input that we are unfamiliar with or unpracticed in its use. The capacity and sensitivity of our senses is far more acute and far-ranging that most of us either expect or experience. This is in part because of how underused they are now that many of us live without the pressing need for tracking, hunting, food gathering, hiding/running from predators and other awareness enhancing and once common activities. Additionally, for those of us in urban areas (or who spend much time in front of the television), the massive overstimulation we receive can cause us to shut down a significant percentage of our sensory capabilities in order to cope.

The physiology of perception and sensation does vary from person to person, but any healthy child can learn to recognize the basic properties of most medicinal plants through careful observation, organoleptic experience and practiced awareness. And anyone at all can practice and grow their existing sensory abilities, leading to a greater level of acuity and understanding.

The distinction between sensory perception and so called extra-sensory perception is important, because when we realize that energetics (and thus, the very language of plants) is transferred through our senses, we are then able to fine tune and deepen our physical awareness. This allows us to become ever closer and more aware of what the plants, and the natural world as a whole, is imparting to us in every moment.

Six Simple Steps: How to Immerse Yourself in an Herb

There is no one set way for all people to understand the all plants, but there are certainly some common and accessible avenues that frequently work for most people and most plants. I have arranged my suggestions in the order in which they seem to naturally occur for the majority of people. Don’t get stuck in any one place in the process, keep moving as feels appropriate and realize that you may have to repeat all the steps several times over before you have a feel for the plant or the process. Also realize, that in this miraculously dynamic and complex world that we are a part of, that we all have different strengths and predilections. Rather than remaining solely dependent on these, work to develop all parts of your perceptual and

It can be useful to initially go through these steps with the herb as a living plant still growing in its environs and then go back, repeating the process with a (or several) form(s) of the medicinal plant preparation. This can be especially important if the plant is very new to you.

A few tips:

• Attempt to leg go of your expectations and assumptions while remaining grounded in reality.
• Forget what you think (or imagine) you know but do utilize available tools and skills.
• Approach the plants with wonder. And common sense.
• Above all, pay attention. Then pay attention some more.

Observation

Principle: To intently pay attention to and gather information on the many different factors and characteristics that make up a plant, both in its living state and as a prepared medicine or food.

Try to do this without making assumptions or judgements about why or how at this point. Gather information, especially the botanical name of the plant, what plant family it belongs to, what the plant looks like, feels like, smells like, and (if non-toxic) what it tastes like. Examine its growth habit, what flora and fauna it tends to grow in community with and preferred habitat. Spend enough time with the plant that you can observe how it acts under stress, in ideal conditions, how it interacts with its surroundings and how it changes through the seasons. Observe other plants in the same botanical family if available. Much understanding can be gained about the personality and traits of most herbs by getting to know their close relatives.

Have I mentioned how important it is to pay attention? It is!

Pitfall: Don’t limit your ways of gathering information. You will find your learning curve significantly less steep if you take the time to learn at least the basics of botany. Seeing the patterns that exist in plants and noticing the similarities within plant families can be extraordinarily helpful to your practice as an herbalist. It will also save you a whole lot of time when trying to identify new allies. If you rebel at the very thought of learning a seemingly scientific approach, keep in mind that nearly all traditional peoples had/have their own systems of plant identification, classification and terminology. And thus, botany, which is not book smarts but rather an intimate, detailed knowledge based on the observation of the natural world.  It’s certainly not the only way of understanding plants, but it’s an incredibly valuable one for any herbalist who wishes to have a personal relationship with the herbs. Likewise, a basic grasp of the anatomy and physiology of the human body will tell you much about how plants work and about our relationship with them. I do not limit my definition of this to the Western biomedical model of physiology, but also include Traditional Chinese Medicine’s organ systems and other similar well-developed models. What is most important here is the exploration, observation and study of life (and here, specifically of the plants and of our bodies) that increases our knowledge of the work we do and the lives we live.

Sensory Experience

Get closer than just observation, immerse yourself in the plant.

Work with all applicable senses (which means if it’s poisonous, don’t eat it, but find other ways of working with it on a sensory level), to whatever extent is appropriate. For any relatively non-toxic medicinal plant, this will mean tasting, smelling, touching and seeing it over and over again. This is a sensory immersion, so even if the plant doesn’t taste (or smell) pleasant to you, part of the process is becoming intimately familiar with every nuance of sensory input the plant can provide. It is for this very reason that I recently ate several whole Elecampane roots over the period of a couple days. I certainly didn’t find it to be a very enjoyable experience, but it taught me an enormous amount about how the plant works and thoroughly familiarized me with the exact texture, taste, scent and sight of it. This isn’t practical with every plant, but an attempt for some approximation should be made.

As with people, we get a much better sense for the overall personality of the plant by investing ourselves in both quality and quantity of time. Herbal one night stands can be productive in that they may result in the desired end (healing of whatever discomfort), but they rarely reveal the plant’s deeper nature.

Pitfall: Avoid depending completely, or even primarily, on one sense to inform your experience. Most people have a dominant sense for experiencing the world and a dominant cognitive process for understanding the world. Don’t let your natural proclivities (and strengths) become a weakness, seek out depth through diversity.

Emotional Response

Principle: Notice and engage your emotional feelings and reactions to the plant.

This can be as simple as recognizing the fact that you have strong feelings of like or dislike for the plant in question, and both ends of the spectrum are worth exploring, both for what they teach us about the plant as well as about ourselves. Emotional and nervous system response to ingesting a medicinal herb are important to note, especially I the experience is repeated.

Emotional response is valuable for the very reason that scientific inquiry often discounts it, because it is essentially unquantifiable, uncontrollable and to a large degree, even unnameable. It is wild by its very nature. In this way, our emotions allow us to access unique information and experiences not otherwise available to us. Permitting ourselves to feel deeply in relation to the plants (and people) we work with can teach us about ourselves and the herbs at a depth only achievable through emotion and attachment.

Pitfall: Keep in mind that in order for emotional response to result in knowledge and wisdom rather than simplistic reaction or self indulgence it is best balanced by a developed sense of self and finely honed discernment.

Secondly, refrain from assuming that because you have a negative emotional response to (or negative experience with) a plant that it is somehow evil, malign, has ill intent or is otherwise “bad”. Such value judgements rarely have any basis in reality when applied to anything besides humans. As mentioned before, projecting human emotions on non-hominids is just that, a projection, and will severely limit your ability to get to know any member of the more than human world.

Cognition

Principle: Engage you observations, sensations, thoughts and emotional responses to the plant on a whole body level, allowing the cognitive process to aid in your overall understanding of the herb and its effects.

Cognition is gathering, processing and incorporating information through experience, the senses, emotions, thought and other perceptual avenues. It includes within it all the steps previously spoken of but is a more complex phenomenon in that it is not simply taking in sensation (or feeling emotion) but is also its synthesis, deconstruction and transformation into a useful and usable knowledge.

There are many different levels and types of cognition, all of them holding some value and applicability. They range from careful analysis of collected data to dream-initiated understandings to combining information in new ways to reveal previously obscured patterns. Intuition and other preconscious processes are also included under this heading and can provide invaluable insights into plants (and people) when taken in context with other understandings.

I have chosen not to isolate conscious thought from cognition as a whole because of our culture’s already overriding tendency to do just that. When working with the plants (as well as other people and the natural world as a whole) it is often most effective to incorporate thought as an integrated aspect of cognition rather than that voice in our heads that never shut up. It is possible and usually preferable to understand with our whole bodies rather than our isolated parts, as useful and informative (if overused) an exercise as dissection is. I have thus placed my emphasis on the aspects of perception most neglected by Western culture and most in need of reincorporation. Cognition allows us to see and feel in new ways, to explore and learn and perhaps best of all, to understand and act upon our experiences and feelings.

Pitfall:  All perceptual organs (from skin to brain to heart) are best understood within the context of the whole body/whole person rather than isolated or given a hierarchal (and artificial) designation. Thoughts can provide profound understanding of a plant, as can intuition, sensation, dreams and emotions. All are necessary for a maximally balanced and accurate relationship. All are gifts and all meant to work together as a united organism in connection with the greater whole of the natural world.

Integration

Principle: Purposefully putting together the previous steps until a pattern or picture begins to emerge.

This may happen all at once, or more likely, occur over a period of time. Sometimes it will be a profound ah-hah type of moment, but more often it will be a slow process of realization and comprehension. The more diverse your means of inquiry and the more depth to your experiences with the plant, the better chance of really understanding the plant you have. It’s really not so different from getting to know people, although our means of communication with other humans is more standardized, while many of us are just beginning to (re)learn to speak with the more than human world.

For many people, the best way to integrate information and understandings is by expressing them in some way, either through talking aloud about the plant to someone else, by writing about it or whatever other way the individual might find helpful. Generally, this helps tie up cognitive loose ends and begin the process of integration. Ingesting or otherwise using the herb is also an essential part of this process, since only by doing and experimenting do we truly experience and not just think/feel about the plant. When you learn something in your body, organoleptically, it makes everything you know about the plant much less likely to be forgotten because it’s been absorbed and integrated on a broader level.

Pitfall: Don’t obsess. The process of integration may not happen immediately, or even after years, depending on your and the plant. You may go through these same basic steps over and over with the same plant for a decade before you feel like you have any true grasp of the personality/nature of the herb. With some herbs you may never get anything beyond a rudimentary look at certain herbs. And that’s ok, because we’re not here to become intimate with every single person or plant on the planet, or even our own backyard. Be persistent and discerning in your quest to connect to the plants, and you’ll likely find the ones best suited to you and your practice over time.

Application

Principle: Apply your understanding to your work/relationship with the plant.

In truth, we’ve been applying our knowledge and understandings all along, but this is the part where the focus really shifts to consciously incorporating what we’ve learned in a significant way to our everyday lives. Application, or consistent utilization/work with the plant helps us to gain confidence in the relationship and cements the other steps as we confirm, adjust, reconfirm and readjust our understandings and knowledge. I strongly suggest working with the plant primarily on its own for a long period before adding it to formulations. Experiencing and working with the herb on its own in other people will give you much needed information that might otherwise be lost in the mix.

Pitfalls: This is what many of us want to do first, to jump in with both feet at our initial impression or first intriguing bit of information, and very often end up frustrated that the process of understanding every intimate detail of the plant isn’t automatic and effortless. Have patience and take the time to move through the process, just as you would with any meaningful friendship or other relationship.

On the other hand, some people get stuck right here, too nervous or insecure about their knowledge or abilities to go the final step and really work with the plant on a regular basis. Just remember that we’re all practicing, and nobody has it all figured it out. So listen carefully, learn well and proceed with common sense and you’ll likely be fine.

*I believe I owe the term “core nature” to jim mcdonald, from a conversation several years ago having to do with the patterns and personalities of individual herbs.

The foundation for experiencing and understanding herbal energetics and human constitutions is to learn to speak with the natural world (including plants and the human body) through our senses (which is what they’re there for, after all). Thus, one of the most important practices of the aspiring or practicing herbalist is to thoroughly awaken, engage and refine the senses.

Of the Earth: Original Speech and the Senses

by Kiva Rose Hardin

http://animacenter.org

“Our senses are meant to perceive the world. They developed with and from the world, not in isolation. Using them is the act that opens the door that is in Nature.”
-Stephen Buhner

“All we have to believe with is our senses, the tools we use to perceive the world: our sight, our touch, our memory. If they lie to us, then nothing can be trusted. And even if we do not believe, then still we cannot travel in any other way than the road our senses show us; and we must walk that road to the end.”
-Neil Gaiman

Original speech was never words. The language of primal being and the living earth speaks in a soft brush of fur against our bare skin, flows on wild melodies for our ears to hear, blossoms into a rich sweetness on our tongues, fades into a thousand shades of green in the forest canopy, envelopes us in the heady musk of an orchid. Words are shorthand, symbols for the real world. – Don’t mistake me, words have beauty and power, but only so far as they evoke the sensory web in which we live. Abstractions, concepts without root in the flesh and blood of earthly existence are but stillborn shadows of the inspirited organism that is our planet. The healer cannot afford to play pretend with big words and heady ideas, our work is in the achingly physical planes of skin, root, bone, leaf, heart, petiole, uterus, stamen, belly. This is our territory, our haven, our speech and most of all, our home.

As humans, we are intended to reside in our bodies and in our connections to the land, each other, the all. Our senses are not meant to be just half of the equation, with the other half cerebral hyperbole and mental loops. Our senses and our honed awareness of them are the entirety of being. Indeed, if we do not live wholly in our bodies, we do not wholly live. Our minds exist, not outside of the senses, but as a processing center for sensation, so that we might further refine and hone our awareness, our capacity to feel and our ability to respond to those feelings.

Our ancestors, as indigenous peoples of planet earth and full participants in the natural world, knew well how to listen to the land. They heard and understood the language of river, otter, rock, dragonfly and flower. In the age of industrial civilization we speak of these people and those days as if they were long gone. As if, in fact, it all might have been a myth, a fanciful fairy story to begin with. After all, old women do love to embellish stories by the fire, and men are well known for their exaggerated tales, so perhaps life has always been this burdensome and boring and we humans have always been this cut off from the magic and mystery. Perhaps we never did speak to plants, and we really are as crazy as our neighbors (who catch us whispering compliments to Dandelions) suppose we are. This insistent and insidious whisper of doubt stems from our fear and our imagined separation from the natural world, including ourselves. And despite the many stories to the contrary, it is not magic and the realm of Faery that have faded from our world, but we humans who have closed ourselves into the vast corridors of our minds and turned our backs on the innate enchantment to which we are each born.

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3 Steps to ReLearning Original Language

1. Surrender to the Senses
The first step is to forget words, and the best and most natural way to do this is to give ourselves over to our senses. Step away from your computer, wander out of the house into the forest or garden or into your lover’s arms. Immerse yourself in the experience as if it was the first time you’d ever smelled dew-wet grass at dawn, or kissed the inside of your husband’s wrist, where the pulse pounds beneath your lips. Give yourself up to it as if it were the final time. As if this whisper of indian summer wind lilting through the elms that line your road is the last sound you’ll ever hear.

Now, start with five minutes each day, spend that entire time without words in your head. But don’t space out or float away from your body, stay firmly rooted in the here and now, ground yourself in your senses. If you can’t manage it any other way, choose five minutes of eating. Eat very slowly, don’t analyze the food. Notice it, savor it, and if it’s not worth savoring, get something else to eat. Give yourself over to instinctual experience of touch, taste, scent, sound and sight.

Integrate this into your daily life, even when it’s painful or unpleasant. If you burn your finger on the stove or your toes are cramped by your too small shoes, pay attention and respond rather than blocking or numbing it. Feel it, explore it, live inside it until you recognize the feeling’s fingerprint upon your senses.

If this is hard, persist. If it’s easy, delight in it. Don’t trivialize or rush the process. Don’t imagine for a moment you already know how to do this, no matter your age, your experience, your education. This is important, this is the primary way in which the natural world speaks to us, and it is the only way in which to learn the most vital aspects of a healer’s practice.

Don’t worry about translating every sensation into meaning, that comes later, and will only inhibit the process at this point. For now, simply cultivate a mammalian awareness and child-like presence. Notice. Embrace. Savor.

2. Inhabit your body.

One might think that surrendering to sensation would be identical to inhabiting the body, but I have seen and experienced the phenomenon of entering the body or immersing the self in sensation just long enough to experience incredible pleasure or crushing pain, but otherwise habitually abandoning the body to its automatic processes with little notice on our part.

To inhabit the body is to consciously and completely attend to breath, play, pain, dream, bliss. It is to stretch and wriggle into every crevice and corridor, filling our skin with our selves. It is to finally realize that our skin IS our selves. We are not merely souls trapped in flesh, but rather animated, inspirited matter in the form dancing, crying, loving humans.

Many of us may wish our bodies were younger, more toned, smaller, lithe or less scarred – and yet, our bodies are both home and, hopefully, an expression of our own character, a lined map of the lives we have lived. The more fully we inhabit our bodies, the more our bodies will reflect our authentic selves, from the sparkle of the eye to the gesture of eager hands to the balance and confidence with which we move. There is no other body for our beings, just as there is no other planet for our people. We are here and nowhere else. The journey to loving and valuing our body, perceived flaws and all, may be long and arduous indeed, but we begin with accepting that it is who we are and by inhabiting it as completely as is possible.

Consciousness resides in the entirety of the body. Practice centering your awareness somewhere besides you head. Let your index finger or left calf or your belly become the primary conduit for consciousness for a little while. Every day, send you awareness to different parts of your body and allow them to wake up, to feel and sense fully. When you’ve learned to expand yourself into all parts of your body, try holding your consciousness within the whole body at the same time. Understand that the idea that your awareness is only in your head is culturally indoctrinated lie, because in fact, we humans and all animals, lived inside the entirety of our bodies not just one extremity.

3. Engage the Present

Once we’re finally at home in our bodies, we often find ourselves living more intensely from moment to moment, deeply aware of the soft sweep of our clothing against our skin, of the morning light on our faces, of the bitter yet rich bite of the day’s first cup of coffee, of the pulse of breath as it flows from and to us. This brings us into the present, into each second of the day. There’s no more numbed out hours where we forget we’re anything but lumps of tissue in front of the TV or thumbs pounding away at video game controllers or clever brains solving complex networking problems from a cubicle.

In the vital, precious present moment, we immerse ourselves into our original wild nature, and feel the pull of the forest from outside our doors. We remember how to hear the plants speaking to us, the earth calling our names, all through the connecting threads of our senses and the presence that allows us to hear and understand.

Utilizing your heightened sensory awareness, notice whenever you start to pull yourself from the present. Even (or especially) when the stress of marital strife, sick kids or a bad job triggers the desire to escape into fantasy or convenient distraction, bring yourself back. For many, the simplest way to to maintain presence is to engage in a sensorily rich and informative practice, such as gardening, dancing or gathering medicinal plants or cooking. Such activities require the respect of remaining in the moment and noticing each nuance.

Whenever your mind threatens to overflow with an endless train of words or barrage of useless images, bring yourself back to the now. Go outside and below the nearest tree or with whatever bit of wildness you can find. Don’t banish the words, just let them fade away in the face of the immediacy of tactile experience. Press your fingers to rough bark, or lay your face against smooth green leaves, or immerse your body in moving water. Give yourself back to the embrace of the moment, to the original speech that flows between us and the earth.

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To remember, to open the senses fully, to bring ourselves back into fellowship with place  can take time, practice and great intent. For most of us, it means emerging from many years and generations of isolation and sensory deprivation. As difficult and confusing as this process of re-awakening can be, it’s also incredibly rewarding and pleasurable as we re-learn the almost lost language of our ancestors, of our more than human kin and the earth itself. For we who are healers and shamans, as the medicine people of an increasingly industrial age, this is the work of a lifetime. The more we can give ourselves back to sensory immersion in the natural world, the easier it will be to hear the plants and animals, the land itself, speaking to us. Likewise, we will better know what herbs are best in specific situations, what each person most needs to be whole and healed, and where our individual place in the great mystery lies. When we return to our senses, we awaken to the knowledge that the whole world is singing, that there is meaning and magic in every moment and thread of life, and that we are a part of it all. We remember that all of life speaks the same intense, sensory language, and then we too, begin listening and speaking within the wild dialogue of taste and touch, song, scent and sight.

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All Pics (c)2009 Kiva Rose Hardin except Loba by Woodstove (c) 2009 Jesse Wolf Hardin

I just posted the second part part of my new Talking With Plants essay over on the Animá blog, I suspect all my regular readers here will enjoy it and strongly suggest that my students read it closely as it is very relevant to the courses. Here’s an excerpt to tempt you:

The truth is that if we’re only listening for words – for language in human terms – then we’re barely listening at all! The world speaks to us in the ancient tongue of touch and color, texture and fragrance, through taste and breath and every part of our senses. Listening through our whole body teaches to be open to the world and each other in a whole new way and with a depth and subtlety that even the best words cannot begin to approach. All of nature communicates on this level, eternally engaged and intensely aware. We humans have pursued the allure of the linear mind and categorizable information and in the process, often abandoned the instinctual (and primary) intelligence of the body. Certainly both forms of learning are useful, but to underestimate the value of physical, tactile understanding is to undermine our relationship to the greater whole. The mind works best when integrated as a co-operative part of the body rather than designated the dictator of an artificial hierarchy of organs. Remembering and awakening the often submerged senses of the body requires patience and dedication for many of us, but the rewards are great. Knowing ourselves as living, vital parts of the natural world provides a visceral, bone-deep sense of self-knowledge and belonging within a larger family.

Also, I’m up against my deadline for finishing the design work for the hardcover version of I’m a Medicine Woman, Too! so I’m a little out of contact at the moment and will most likely remain that way for the better part of a week. If you need a response to something right this moment, please be sure to indicate that in your email. In addition, Medicine Woman Core students should know that I’m in the process of re-arranging and re-writing some of the lessons, so I’m being slower than usual in sending out new lessons. Bear with me, the course will be improved by the changes and you’ll benefit from this delay in the long run

Check out my lovely friend and student (and wonderful herbalist), Angie’s great new blog Authentic Mama and the ridiculous (as in, too good to be true) herb book giveaway she’s currently doing. This is a great selection of some of the best herbals available, with authors ranging from Matthew Wood to Lesley Tierra to Stephen Buhner, so don’t miss it.

Oh, and happy ~official~ Spring to you, as of tomorrow. The equinox is a special time in the Canyon and we’ll be celebrating as we do each year at dawn.

With the blessings of the turning earth and growing green to each of you…

~Kiva

The most effective systems or types of herbalism tend to use a system of energetics to understand the way a plant works in the human body. In TCM, terms such as yin or yang, hot or cold may be applied. In ayurveda or humoral theory other terms may be used. Most systems of energetics tend be strongly allied to the language and metaphors of the culture they’re born from. This makes for amazingly intimate and intricate understandings if you happen to be from one of these culture, but for a possibly frustrating quest if you’re not. Here in North America there are remnants of several different systems. The most intact may be the European-rooted humoral system still seen in Appalachian and Hispanic folk medicine. Many indigenous tribes have varying amounts of intact theory, though I don’t meet many young indigenous (or Hispanic, or Anglo) folks in this region with much understanding of any aspect of traditional herbal healing. Many traditional herbalists are doing their best to patch together, record and develop existing understandings, as can be seen in the work of Matthew Wood, Michael Moore, Phyllis Light and many others.

One question I’ve frequently asked myself is just why energetics are so important to successful, practical herbalism. I think the answer to this lies in the human need to see things as symbols, patterns and classifications in order to process, store and understand information. This is great, and we can utilize this tendency in ourselves to better teach each other about all kinds of things. On the other hand, it’s very important not get caught up in the omnipotence of any one system, and to remember they’re just reference points for looking at plants, humans and life, not the ultimate herbal dogma to memorize, regurgitate and swear by.

The benefit of the sense based systems of energetics is that nearly anyone can touch an injured muscle and perceive whether it is radiating heat or not. Almost any one of us can take a nibble of Cayenne Pepper and taste the heat, or rub Mallow flowers between our fingers and feel the slippery sliminess of it. Of course, it suddenly gets more complicated when you ask someone how Peppermint feels in their mouth – hot, cold, peppery, refreshing and numbing. And then you wonder how to fit all that in a category.

It’s easier if we remember that categories can are artificial and that plants and people don’t belong in boxes. Great Lakes herbalist, Jim McDonald, once explained to me that it’s not that Catnip is diaphoretic, sedating and emmenagogue as separate categories, it’s that all these actions can happen in the body because of Catnip’s overall relaxing qualities. So if tension is disallowing peripheral circulation or normal moon cycles, well then yes, Catnip will act as a diaphoretic and emmenagogue. Jim’s rather genius like at understanding the underlying natures of each plant, and this is something I’ve been focusing on a great deal in my own practice. Once we understand that underlying nature, we’re able to see what the herb may do for the human being. I think that this looking to the core nature of each individual plant is the root of energetics, and that the systems are merely ways of naming and categorizing the natures of all these plants and all the ways the life energy manifests in the human being.

Once we understand the core nature of plants then labels become an entertaining shorthand, but also a sometimes annoying limitation or misconception, especially where those labels contain all the anti prefixes. It seems infinitely more useful to me to know how a plant acts rather than what it kills or prevents. Just knowing what a plant kills doesn’t tell you much about the rest of its effects, but knowing how a plant acts tells you MUCH about all the actions it may potentially have, including the effect it may have on bacteria.

So, how do we get to the core nature of each plant? I’ll start with two answers 1) remember that plants are people, 2) remember that plants are not humans. Plants have personalities, tendencies, sentience and a miraculous intelligence and ability to adapt. However, plants are not humans. Those of us who grew up with disney-fied fairy tales or even saturday morning cartoons often have odd notions about the plants. We may think that if we’re really in touch with the plant world then they’ll appear to us as green nymphs in flower petal skirts or old tree men with twig-like fingers and rough, barky noses. That they’ll speak in the syntax and language of words. And that the ultimate manifestation of any lifeform is as a human with human expressions and gestures. When we slip into this kind of thinking we miss out on the amazing complexity of other than human language, and the ways in which the plants are already speaking to each and every one of us, right now.

Despite many sweet cartoons and fanciful stories to the contrary, nature is not made up of humans in leafy or furry clothing. The myriad living creatures around us are not waiting for just the right moment to surprise you with their great grasp of modern English. They are, in fact, communicating with us, each other and the whole world at every second. These communications may be in the form of scents, textures, sounds, energy or any other number of sensation based stimuli.

All this time, they’ve just been waiting for us to remember the call of river song and the lullaby of sun-warmed grass. To recognize the warning of sharp edges and the call to awareness of barbed tips. And in a narrower sense, this is just what energetics are here to teach us – to give us a reference point for communication between plant and person.

Sometimes the plants may speak to us in our expected way, in the guise of human skin, but that’s because that’s the form we desire and need in order to hear them not because it’s their truest expression. I myself have had many of these experiences, in dreams and other out or ordinary experiences. I’m not denying their power and validity, for they’ve had an immense impact on my perceptions and understanding. I do notice, however, that the further I delve into the realm of plants and bugs and frogs and mosses, the more I am aware of their essential otherness as well as my own innate kinship with them.

I think it’s a necessary step in human evolution to realize that we can have relationship with the world without making it look like us. And if we can come to grips with on a gut level, we may yet have the capacity to stop destroying everything we can’t control or make like ourselves. Domestic dogs are forever safe as our allies and help mates while wild wolves slowly (or quickly) go extinct as threats to our mandated world order. Not because wolves eat our children but because they represent a fierce, unmanageable aspect of the natural world that we can’t make look like us. Socio-political commentary aside, many of us as herbalists, activists, gardeners and cooks represent the plants to the rest of a world that has lost intimate contact with that realm. As their emissaries we have a responsibility to accurately transmit, to the best of our ability, the true magic and mystery of the plants to those willing to hear.

So we’re back to where we began, and to the origins of all relationship and communication. Reach out, touch, feel and give back to the beings we’re surrounded and sustained by. It’s really as simple as that.

Wake up and smell the dirt.

For those of us who were taught, and came to accept, that the Universe is a machine, the journey back to wild water is a long one. We find our way one step at a time.
-Stephen Buhner

Down on our bellies on the grass, we take a flower’s view of the world — the huge blue sky, the ancient sheltering trees, the dance of the wind with every being and the rain drizzling down, iridescent drops spilling onto skin and petals and fingers and roots. From this perspective we’re children again, speaking in the primal wordless hum of ancestors and plants, animals and delighted babies. We’re here, in the truest sense of the word, in this moment and place Immersed in the fragrance and feeling, engaged in the timeless exchange of human being and earth.

Once we’ve begun the process of opening up to our own connections and relationship with the plants, we can begin to engage on a deeper level. Engagement comes from the 17th century French word engager which means “to pledge”. So then, to engage with the plants is to pledge to them, to commit to being present and fully ourselves when with them, which is always.

Perhaps the simplest and most effective way to begin this process is simply to spend time with the plants we feel called to. Seek out plants in as natural a setting for them as possible. For a Wild Rose this may mean a green riverbank and for a Dandelion it may mean a sidewalk crack outside a gas station. Meeting the plant in its chosen habitat helps to provide a context for our experience and the building of the relationship.

Many exercises, suggestions and books have been written or spoken on the subject of how best to spend focused time with the plants. Stephen Buhner, Susun Weed, Paul Bergner, Rosemary Gladstar and Matthew Wood have all written admirably on the subject. What I recommend and practice is that we each find a meaningful way to consistently spend time with the living plant. This could be simply sitting with the plant for some, performing some kind of personally significant ceremony with the plant for others, or even sleeping outdoors with it for a few nights for some. Whatever we find that works for each of us, do it on a consistent basis. Just as with human relationships, while love may spark at first sight, the relationship depends on time invested and commitments made.

It is only when we are aware of the earth and of the earth as poetry that we truly live.
-Henry Beston

In the knowing of vine and tree, earth and stone we come closer to our selves, our own innate and authentic beings. And the better we know ourselves the less likely we are to project or anthropomorphize upon our fellow beings, and the more we appreciate the unique being of the plant as well as the threads that weave us all together. Time spent in communion with our allies allows us to nurture our knowings of both self and plant, teaching us the balance that is so integral and yet so fragile. From the plants and the earth, we remember how to be human being in relationship with the world that is our larger, and more comprehensive, being.

When we have been with the plant for a while, but before we begin to speak, we practice feeling the plant’s presence with us wherever we go. This may at first sound a bit silly or new-agey, but most of us carry a sense of our children, or siblings, lovers, friends of each other with us, and often posses some awareness of their well-being at all times. In this, is the great beauty of the intense connectedness of all things. This evolved yet often unconscious awareness is one that children innately embody and that our culture often smirks at — as media propaganda constantly reinforces the great human fear that we are, in the end, all completely alone in the world. That we are separate and lonely beings lost in a dark void where the only possible meaning stems from consumerism and competition. As adults, we often fear we’ve left behind something important and valuable, something magical, in order to survive or succeed in the “real world”. And yet, that lost something, that joyful connected child isn’t gone but only submerged.

To practice feeling the plant with us means simply opening ourselves to the recognition of its presence. At first, this may feel like pretending because of the programming most of us have endured, but after some time –a few days, weeks or even months and years– we’ll start to notice the naturalness of having other beings connected to us in intimate, constant ways.

Ways of facilitating this connection can include carrying a bit of the plant around with us, or sleeping with it under our pillow. We can create special pouches or containers for the plant piece in whatever feels most appropriate to us. Natural materials seem best for this so that the plant piece can more freely share its scent and energy with us.

Plant communications are like stones in water. The ripples they create move throughout ecosystems; they wash up against us. That we take plant words in through our nose or our skin or our eyes or our tongue instead of our ears does not make their language less subtle. or sophisticated, or less filled with meaning.
-Stephen Buhner

Now that we know the plant on a more energetic level, we immerse ourselves physically in the experience of the plant. If the plant is one that can be ingested, we might consider eating small portions of the plant on a daily basis. Michigan herbalist jim mcdonald recommends carrying about small chunks of root and chewing them. This works especially well with herbs such as Calamus, Osha and even Burdock. Herbal baths, footsoaks, massage oils and etheric doses of the tincture or provide us with myriad ways to envelop ourselves in the physical presence of our ally. Whatever way we use, we try to engage every sense. Awash in the essential, sensual immediacy of the body of the plant, its essence is pressed into our very being, recorded in our cells and spirits.

If we feel called to work with a potentially poisonous plant such as Sacred Datura, or a less than palatable ally it may be preferable to experiment with homeopathic doses used externally or in a bath. A single Datura flower floating on the bathwater is a wonderful way to evoke the magic and power of this intense spirit without inviting the physical malaise possible with larger doses.

When we find the ways we feel most able to connect and hold on to the presence of the plant, then we use these methods as a meditation, a discernible practice upon which to build a lasting relationship. An internal map to the terrain that leads us back to the awareness of the spirit underlying all things.

Up in the trees with our face pressed against leaves, as dandelion seeds float effortlessly past, we remember what it is to be whole, with roots deep in the warm, wet earth and our wings spread out on flower fluff. We remember what it is to be home.

Using Energy Moving Herbs for Connection, Presence and Groundedness

In the last few years I’ve had various students, guests, blog-readers and the like confide in me that they’re unable to really “feel” the plants on an energetic level. That no matter how much they meditate, garden, guzzle tinctures or go to herb conferences, no matter how much they LOVE the plants, they can’t feel the effect of drop-dose tinctures, a bit of leaf or the presence of the plant.

There can be all kinds of reasons for this, but a primary one is certainly energy/chi blockage. Where someone is stuck outside of their body, or has so much ~stuff~ built up in them that they can barely taste their food or remember their kids names, let alone hear the quiet voice a weed outside their bedroom window. This stuff needs to be dealt with on its own, to be sure. Counseling, a really hot Sweat and/or good sex can all help. But what I’m talking about here is more of a physical approach with herbs, it won’t erase your phobias or put dinner on the table, but it may help you bring yourself into your body, the present moment and assist in the release of issues you’ve already been working on. Especially in issues like grief, anxiety or anger where the event that caused the feeling is long since past but we’re still in that place, reliving the occasion over and over because we’ve been unable to feel it fully, complete the cycle and let the emotions flow back out of us.

The loose category of herbs for this type of work is Chi/Qi regulators. They’re often (but not always) aromatic, tingly tasting plants like Sweet Clover, Lemon Balm, Lavender and Monarda. Bitter nervines like Skullcap and Motherwort often work as energy movers too. Part of the dynamic of these plants is that what moves one persons stuck energy may not be the right fit for the next person.

An example of this phenomenon is that for many years, Loba loved the plants. She petted them, sang to them and gave them them pet names when she could tell them apart. She loved herbal medicines but nervines simply didn’t work on her for the most part, huge doses of Valerian, Skullcap or Poppy barely affected her. And large, physiological doses were about the only thing that would work on anything in her body. She felt frustrated and deficient, locked out of a beautiful world of sensation and experience, separated from the plants. Loba has also always had difficulty staying grounded, even when she was happy and practicing familiar tasks, she’d get zoned out, lost and float right out of her body. Food and the river seemed to bring her back pretty well, but it often took time for the effect to kick in.

Then, one lovely August day, Darcey Blue came to visit, and gifted us with some of the bounty of her overflowing desert garden. Amongst the treasures was some lovingly harvested Holy Basil. I tinctured about half a pint of the fragrant, spicy plants and promptly forgot about the little jar at the back of my shelf. Sometime later, during one of my ongoing quests to find a special plant ally for Loba, I rediscovered the jar and presented her with an ounce of it.

Upon taking a few drops, she got very excited and her eyes became quite sparkly. Wow, she said, I feel SOOOO much better. And ever after, whenever she starts to come unglued, loses her focus or goes into an emotional tailspin, a few drops of Holy Basil will bring her back into her body and the present. And unexpected side effect of this was that she was suddenly able to notice subtle differences in the plants around her, able to feel their personalities quite distinctly and strangely susceptible to other herbs, especially nervines. Whereas she couldn’t even FEEL the effects of dropperfulls of Lavender, now a few drops relaxes her enough to help her sleep. And just this week, we discovered that fresh Sweet Basil tincture has a nearly identical effect to Holy Basil.

My understanding of what happened in this story, and what I’ve seen time and time again since, is that a particular plant can help push some stuck, stagnant energy out of the way so that the person can FEEL in a bigger, more intense way. Disrupted, disturbed energy can prevent us from feeling our connection to our bodies and our connection with our larger self, the earth. Moving this energy restores the natural flow and cycles of our being and allows the natural process of grounding to occur. When we’re grounded, we’re also reconnected to our senses, the plants and everything else. This allow our perception to broaden and deepen, as will our experience of life and living it.

Here’s a list of a few of my favorite energy moving herbs, and some of their subtleties. You’ll notice that many are mint family plants, who seem to have a tribal mission of energy movement in the world, and a deep desire to help us all shift, enjoy life and be in our bodies. Wake up and smell the mint!

You’ll also notice that many of the plants are those where the flowers and leaves are usually used, rather than root or bark herbs. This list is by no means exhaustive, but it’s a good start when looking to your own backyard or pantry for a plant to help you unstick yourself for your current rut.

Basil – A warming, tingly plant with a feeling of joy and groundedness. jim mcdonald talks about it as a specific for brain fog, and I think this is an aspect of the plant that really helps Loba with her chronic short term memory problems and sporadic fits of logistical confusion.

Lavender – Sweet and opening, this flower especially helps move stuck heart and liver energy. Comforting, reassuring and calming. I really like this one for people who’s energy is clogged because of fear, timidity or phobias.

Rosemary – A great warming, spicy plant for moving core energy and blood that’s deeply stuck, resulting in sluggish digestion, depression and feelings of general cold and malaise.

Lemon Balm – Uplifting, sweet and restorative, Lemon Balm is great for those who need just a little more light and play in their lives. Also wonderful for long term grief.

Chamomile – For those who’s energy is stuck in a way that really blocks their solar plexus, resulting in low self esteem, no self-confidence and no tolerance for pain. Deeply ingrained fear is often present here, resulting in varying levels of hysteria, hypochondria and self-obsession.

Sweet Clover – For energy stuck in the lymph, head and belly, resulting in physical lumps and hardnesses, low immune, cramping and severe pain in some cases. Don’t know enough about this one just yet.

Skullcap – Bitter, calming and deeply moving and restorative. For energy that’s fragmented and not flowing much at all, just trapped in pockets and vibrating like mad, resulting in trembling, exhaustion, insomnia, and limited digestion. Look for chronically acute fear, people running on adrenalin and so used to running they can’t bring themselves to stop.

Motherwort – Another bitter nervine, this one with a great ability to move stuck heart and womb energy where it’s built up and is causing palpitations, cramping, as well as temperature and mood irregularities,

Mint – Ah, that shivery, cool/warm feeling is the energy and blood moving, moving, moving. Helpful for stuck belly, lung and head energy where there’s congestion, depression, fogginess and no motivation to do much of anything.

Mugwort – Bitter, fragrant and powerful, this plant works amazingly on hot-headed people with deeply stuck liver energy resulting in anger, resentment, anxiety, insomnia and fits of unreasonable rage. It’s especially helpful for people who’s insecurities are triggering their anger, as it gives a gentle sense of security and empowerment.

Sage – For people who have been through the ringer, have deep nerve trauma and are starting to fall apart. Great for stuck energy in the nerves, belly and womb as well as the core. A very restorative remedy that moves and feeds the energy at the same time.

Monarda – Euphoric and calming, this one is great for uptight people with their energy all stuck above the neckline, though it also strongly moves energy in the womb and belly areas.

Rose – For the heart and womb, first and formost. For a deep sadness, loss of self-belief and purpose, and a fear of betrayal and being hurt. Good for grief, depression, fear, or anything else rooted in closing the energy off deeply, and holding it within.

Yarrow – Seems to move everything, a nice, tingly push for the whole system that especially helps regulate the heart, liver and womb energy.

In the stillness I looked inside and saw the wound laid down within all of us… The wound that comes from believing we are alone amid dead uncaring nature. And then I took a breath and began to share stories of a time when the world was young, when everyone knew that plants were intelligent and could speak to human beings…  A time when it was different.
-Stephen Buhner

In vivid dreams and the oldest stories, birds perch on our shoulders to speak to us of the morning’s events, the mushrooms on the forest floor murmur an answer to a question we have yet to ask, and the scarlet mouths of morning glories open to shower us with vision to heal an emotional wound buried under years of addiction. In the real world, the one right here under our feet.  In the real world, beneath illusions we have trained ourselves to see, between rapid-fire moments of rushing from one task to the next, above the wailing roar of our minds, the earth still speaks to us. Though we have struggled to free ourselves from the integral spirals of time, death and dirt we remain inextricably connected to every being, to life itself. It’s not that we’ve left the fairy tale, it’s that we’ve closed our eyes, shoved our hands in our pockets and turned up the ipod.

Before speaking, listen. Listening begins with feeling, by plugging into our larger self, defined by a particular grove of trees, this specific watershed, a bioregion we call home, the country and the planet as a whole. When we come back to here – to the moss beneath our fingers and the leaves falling from the sky, we then better remember our origins and source. Once we are stripped down to vulnerable, feeling flesh we hear more clearly the cool mutter of the Cottonwood and the excited whispers of the Redroot. We sense in a more intense way our connection and relationship to plant and animal as kin. As family. As self.

At times it can feel as if blockages are impeding upon our sense of perception and ability to listen. We wonder if there’s something wrong with us, if we’re mortally wounded because we can’t hear the plants and rocks and animals speaking to us in clear, coherent language. Or in some ways worse, we remain able to hear their tempting whispers but never loud enough to make any sense of it or to participate. As if the earth was going about her daily life, speaking to her children and listening to their songs and stories without us. As if we were cut off.

We’ve all been told to listen to your gut and follow your heart. And it’s true that we would do well to heed our deepest feelings and instinctual urges. Yet one of the greatest tragedies of our world is that many of us have lost touch with our own feelings, we don’t even know what our gut or heart is telling us anymore. This happens through the sensory numbness that accompanies the common overstimulation of rat race living and the deep emotional/spiritual malnourishment of a people with few ceremonies and little value placed on experience, ecstasy and personal revelation.

Sometimes it’s the scars of the life we’ve lived and how we’ve learned to deal with pain. Running away to deep inside our selves every time our parents scream at us, every time our spouse pulls away, every time the news comes on the TV. We’ve learned to cope, to step back, to shut down. And yet healing requires just the opposite of us: engagement, participation, intimacy with the world in every way.

Imagine having the nerves in our hand cut, suddenly we can’t feel or move our fingers. No matter how hot the plate or how silky the fabric, we just can’t feel it. There is a disturbing absence of sensation. If the nerves begin to heal back together, then we have pain and nerve sensations that jump around, burning like electricity and sometimes seeming to originate from a part of our hand different than where we were actually touched. This is how it is with our connection to our feelings, instincts and intuition.

One of the therapeutic approaches to restoring feeling to a numbed limb is to spend time with Stinging Nettles. The painful sting has a miraculous way of assisting in the restoration of feeling. So then, one of the ways we can begin to restore our own deeply feeling selves is to be open to the life-giving properties of acknowledging and experiencing our pain. As long as we stuff down the hurt of our wounds our self and our greater self — of the pavement, the difficult, unresolved divorce, the species gone extinct, the baby that was never born, and the fatigue we can’t seem to recover from — we’ll be cut off from ourselves, separated by a vast sea of unresolved emotion and unfelt sorrow. The point is not to wallow in the pain, but to deeply acknowledge and experience the pain in a ceremonial way so that we can feel it and then let it flow through us and into the ground to be integrated rather than forcing it into an isolated pocket of despair and depression.

As humans, we are earth’s celebrants, joyful expressive beings that can dance the rapture of budding trees and birthing stars. When we daily celebrate the awesome beauty that surrounds us we’ll find ourselves closer to our own beauty and source. On a physical level, we would do well to peel off our shoes and wiggle our toes into sensual soothing grass, to stumble over sharp stones and to sink to our ankles in the sweet decay of rotting leaves on the forest floor. To take off the waterproof jacket and feel the rain and wind in all of its messiness, discomfort and ecstasy. To sleep outside without the nylon sheathing of a tent or even the star-obstructing shelter of a tarp, and for one night to feel the ground beneath our body, the breeze on our cheek and the animals that move around us as the stars spin through the sky and we open ourselves to the cellular reality of belonging, connecting and communicating with the inspirited earth we are always a part of.

By removing the physical and emotional barriers to the world, we open ourselves not just to discomfort, but also to the bliss and delight of communion with the world around us, with what we have always called other, but is really a larger part of our own selves.

We take these strippings away of numbness and old skins as the first step towards a greater listening, the first step in the ancient dance between human being and plant.

Here we begin the Talking With Plants series of posts, but before we dig in I recommend reading Jason Godesky’s excellent blogpost called “Plants Are People, Too”. It’s an in-depth exploration of the ways plants communicate and feel, and their inherent personhood. He quotes Stephen Buhner as well as lots of recent and not so recent research. It’s well worth reading for a good overall look at the subject of plant communication (and a re-thinking of ethical vegetarianism at that!)

Just click on the pretty banner below to go to the Anthropik Network to read Jason’s piece.