As any of you who have been following this blog for any length of time know, my partner Wolf is an incredible artist, and has created countless illustrations to accompany my writing and work. He was the one who drew my first logo, back when I was still doing medicine making under the name Bear Medicine Herbals, with the sweet grizzly bear, Oshá in flower, and the blue moon in the background. The deeply felt and exquisitely expressed magic of his art perfectly matches what I want to convey through my writing and healing work.
It was to him, then, that I turned to when I realized that all of the recent transitions in my life and work required a new pictorial representation. I very much wanted it to represent both a return to my original medicine woman roots, as well as showing the work of the healing journey I’ve been on for the last decade. I needed it to show my ongoing intimacy with herbs and their medicine on many levels at once, from the nutrient rich healing of the Mallows to the mycorrhizal mystery of fungi. In my vision of the picture, I saw the stark cliffs of the canyon met by the soft curves of our San Francisco River, and somehow incorporated into the medicine woman herself, clearly showing the intersecting of land and human, and inseparability of the woman from the place she finds her medicine. And as my own nature and work is both lunar and fiery, I wanted to find a way to work those elements in as well. I couldn’t imagine a logo that didn’t somehow incorporate my charming but elusive ally the Ringtail Cat. Or one that shied away from showing the reality of a temporal, but intense life alongside the euphoria of fully engaging the beauty that surrounds us at every turn. Every time I tried to describe it to Wolf I felt that my words fell short of communicating everything that needed to find its way into this signpost of transition, and representation of the gifts I have to give this world.
Thankfully, Wolf doesn’t always need words to understand a vision, and he managed to weave together not only all of this, but so much that I couldn’t even find the syllables to ask for. I was stunned by the black and white version, and couldn’t look away while he was adding color to it. I was both elated that he’d understood what I was trying to say, and humbled by the obvious beauty and power it, that I sometimes have difficulty seeing in myself. From the Oregon Grape Root twined into her hair to the way he perfectly capture the posture in which I often sit while teaching or talking to the bones and feathers dangling from her hair and ears, the logo represents the me that I’ve been working to slowly uncover from layers of scars and armor. All of this combined and condensed into a powerful image that draws the eyes into its play of color of form. And throughout, the ancient archetype of the medicine woman sings in the focused gaze, purposeful hands, plant allies, and the moon that holds her sleeved cloak together.
This logo wasn’t meant just to decorate bottles of syrup and tincture, though it will surely do that beautifully. It was also meant to help me step across a border I’ve been hesitating at, stalling while I tried to gather enough breath, strength, and will to walk to the edge, and keep going. My book, The Medicine Woman’s Herbal, has long been waiting for me to complete the few final chapters required to publish it. It’s been nearly done for over a year, and I’ve been so caught up in my other work, as well as my personal transitions, that I’ve barely looked at it. And of course, insidious whispers of self doubt over whether it was truly good enough to be shown to the world eat away at my resolve and focus, and have sometimes left me wondering whether it was even worth finishing. I’ve poured myself into its writing, including many years of clinical experience, thousands of hours of research, personal insights, my vision of plant medicine, and most of all, my bone deep connection to the healing and transformative power of the plants. And in the end, it is because of that connection and power that the book will be finished, because speaking with the voice of the land and plants is more important than my personal insecurity and fear of vulnerability.
In addition to the book, I have a new course in progress, to be titled13 Moons to the Medicine Woman: A Journey in Herbcraft, Earth Ceremony, & Folkways, that brings my teaching back its earthen origins. Through this 13 month course, I hope to provide students not only with the knowledge necessary for informed self-care, but also a grounded way of facilitating connection to the land, wildness, plants, body, community, and self. Many folks have written asking about my original Medicine Woman mentorship, which is no longer open to new students, and with this course I hope to provide a portal into the same intense self exploration combined with the gifts and skills of the medicine woman in a form accessible to more students. I’ll be announcing more information about enrollment and the course in the not too distant future.
Writing this blogpost feels like a breath released after too many months of struggling to hold it all in, and it’s a relief to come back home to what I’ve always been, and have continually been growing into. I’ve written in more detail about the process and events that have led me back to the book and this new course, and resulted in this logo, in the Winter issue of Plant Healer, released this first Monday of December. You’ll also see the change in my column name there, now entitled The Medicine Woman: Herbcraft & Folkways For the New Mythic Times, as way of bringing all this work full circle.
With deep gratitude to all of you who have taken the time to read and respond to The Medicine Woman’s Roots over the last many years, and for all the love and generosity the herbal community has heaped on me. There is no other group of people I’d rather work for and with.
For the Plants,