I’m on a learning & practicing frenzy. I’ve been reevaluating my perspectives on socioecological health & herbal medicine, and reconsidering many of my assumptions…as well as working & practicing, which keeps a girl busy. A lot of reading too.

Be back soon with more (& better!) posts.

And that time is almost upon us. However, it’s still just over 40 degrees and raining here, and I’m still under blankets at 11am with hot tea and a pile of books. So. Here are the reads that are currently on my nightstand or kitchen table, and I think they’d pique your interest. Because I know you, and you’re a curious, interdisciplinary individual. While they’re not directly related to herbal medicine, they all espouse a novel concept, perspective or story that can deepen our practice & understanding. (And when you’ve finished, see How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read on Brain Pickings, on the art of not reading. Thanks Michael DeMarco for the link!) Note: While I link to Amazon, I encourage you to purchase from a local bookstore if possible. 

The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee

My mother is a biochemist, and has all the respect & admiration I could offer. We just started a mother-daughter book club, and this was our first pick. (Next we’re reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, a book that I’m ashamed to have not read yet.) Released in 2012, this book is an attempt by oncologist Siddhartha Mukherjee to get into the mind of a disease. Significant questions & themes are tackled: When did cancer first arrive? Is it a disease of civilization? We’re invited to learn the story of the discovery of genetic mutations, oncogenesis, and the development of chemotherapy, high-dose polychemotherapy, pap smears, mammograms, radiotherapy, and the like. It’s gorgeously written, with enough information to leave its pages informed.

Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers: The Acclaimed Guide to Stress, Stress-Related Diseases, and Coping by Robert Sapolsky

The cover is what I’d call “slightly cheesy.” So it wasn’t until one of my fellow herbalists at the clinic (Jean) gave it glowing reviews did I leaf through a copy & pick it up. Now I consider this a true treatise on neuroendocrinology. Topics covered are stress & its effects on immunity, human development, memory, metabolism, cardiovascular health, reproduction, voodoo death, and pain.The author is also hilarious. Sarcasm is tough to pull off in print, but Sapolsky does it well. Highly recommended for any reader interested in the connection between stress & illness. You may have to take notes or reread it: it’s fairly dense if you’re not familiar with the endocrine system.

The Social Conquest of Earth by E.O. Wilson

E.O. Wilson, the Harvard entymologist most famous for his advocacy of biological diversity, covers a lot in this book: eusociality strategies of insects & humans, paths to terrestrial conquest, and forces of social evolution. Essentially, insects’ evolutionary pace comparitively slow. They progressed (more or less) symbiotically with the biosphere, with the colony being a superorganism/genetic extension of the queen (and natural selection operating at this level, not at that of the individual). Human evolution stands in stark contrast, evolving quickly with natural selection operating at the individual and group level. This is a good pick for those interested in human evolution & social complexity.

Antifragility: Things that Gain from Disorder by Nassim Nicholas Taleb

I’m listening to the audiobook version of this, and will soon get a hard copy. I have to confess: I thought this was another book about resilience and robust systems. I was wrong, and apparently people like me (who initially confuse resilience and antifragility) annoy the author. Antifragility is the opposite of fragility. When volatility or a disruption occurs, fragile systems are disturbed (or, if unable to recover, collapse), robust systems are indifferent to some degree, and antifragile systems are invigorated. There are a lot of useful insights for medicine (things like hormesis). The author’s got a wicked sense of humor. A must-read for any systems thinker (looking at you, C3 grads & faculty).

Seeing Trees: Discover the Extraordinary Secrets of Everyday Trees by Nancy Ross Hugo

One of my foci this season are trees and their medicine. In addition to reading Tree: A Life Story by David Suzuki (a biography of Douglas-fir trees, which you need to promise you’ll read), I’m also gracing through this book (a Christmas gift from my sweetheart). It’s a stunning compilation of naturalistic observations of trees through the seasons & their growth patterns. The photographs along are worth the purchase. Robert Llewellyn took several photographs of each plant part, each with a different focus. Layering the images, he presents a nearly microscopic view of tree parts that expands our senses & understanding of these majestic species. This is the book I leave on the coffee table to show off to guests. Anyone who loves trees & the study of botany will find delight here.

Emerging beech tree leaf. ©Robert Llewellyn

And I’d love to hear what you’re reading & learning about. Please leave a comment below!

“Trees were our first teachers,” Bruce Miller used to say. Bruce (Subiyay) was a Skokomish elder, teacher & leader who was a driving force behind the Salish cultural renaissance of the last few decades. I learned about him just a few months after my arrival at the Evergreen State College. Though he had already passed, Bruce continues to be a powerful inspiration. Many have since continued his work of revitalizing Salish culture and rekindling the connection between plants and people. (For more information, see links at the bottom of this post.)

One aspect of his work that always resonated is the consideration of tree as teacher. There’s something about trees that stirs something inside us. Humans have long felt a unique kinship with the trees. And their medicinal qualities haven’t been fully explored yet.

Douglas Fir is a truly seminal tree on the Northwest coast, being biquitous & easily to indentify. This beloved member of the Pine family (Pinacea) is Oregon’s state tree; its silhouette is the centerpiece of the Cascadian bioregional flag. And perhaps unsurprisingly, it gets its common name from a someone named Douglas. David Douglas was a Scottish botanist who laid name claim onto this tree because he introduced it to the Scone Palace in Scotland in 1827.

One of our contintent’s tallest trees (with old growth trees easily over 300’ in height), Pseudotsuga menziesii stretches from present day British Columbia to Northern California, from the coast to the west slopes of the Cascades. (A related species, P. menziesii var. glauca aka Rocky Mountain Douglas Fir extends to Colorado). It likes well-drained and rocky soils, and can thrive in full sun or shade. It extends from sea level up to 5000 feet. It grows fairly quickly, 13-24” annually. Our largest trees reside in the Quinault Rain Forest on the peninsula, though some of the leviathans on the Western slopes of the Cascades around Mt. Rainier are certainly contenders. Its leaves are flat, short (2-4 cm), somewhat soft and spiral around the branch. However, this isn’t the best way to identify this tree, as some of the spray may be flat on lower branches. (This is an adaptation to shade.)

A better way to identify Douglas Fir is to check out the cone. The cone has 3 bracts (see photo above) in between each scale. An old Californian story says the cone came to look this way when a mouse took shelter in it. As a terrible fire was sweeping through the forest, the tree cone offered shelter to the grateful creature. And to this day, you can still see its hind legs & tail poking out through the scales. (For this reason, I like the name “mousecone.” It has a certain…punch to it.)

Mature Douglas Fir bark.

It’s played taxonomic musical chairs over the last few decades. It likes to elude categorization. It’s neither considered a true fir or hemlock. As a result, the genus Pseudotsuga was designated for this hybrid group, meaning “false hemlock.” Past common names include Yellow Spruce, Red Spruce, Red Fir, Oregon Pine, Douglas Spruce. Good grief! Just think of it as the conifer found everywhere with the cone that has the mousetail on it, and you’re all set.

I use Douglas Fir and find it to be a gentle anti-inflammatory, and helpful for chronic, low-grade coughs. I particularly like it for neck/spinal cord muscle inflammation. I haven’t used it or received any feedback on its use for kidney uses or bladder ailments. For these purposes, I use it in teas, infused vinegars, oils, and elixirs. Its volatile oils make infusions especially delicious. Due to its aromatic qualities, it’s helpful in colds, coughs, and some types of headaches. The decoction makes a nice bath & facial steam–clarifying, grounding, purifying. For me, this tree has a strong relationship with the Water element, and with penetrating deep, dark places of the soul that are in need of healing.

I haven’t tinctured Douglas Fir needles, but would love to hear from someone who has. The more I work with it, it seems like it may have a beneficial effect in stagnant liver conditions. But this remains to be elucidated. The Wood Element in Five Element Medicine is associated with Spring, the time of rapid growth and vertical movement. The officials associated with that season are the liver and gallbladder. These are things to ponder & observe.

This tree is plentiful, and it’s very easy to gather boughs blown down after a storm. You can gather it at any time of the year. The taste does change throughout the seasons, with the Spring tips being more tart, and Winter’s needles being more aromatic, sometimes borderlining on the bitter. So nibble some before you use it, and adjust accordingly.

In terms of preparing it, you can use your imagination. (Also, I highly recommend checking out Ananda’s post on the subject. See link below.) For the following, fresh needles are best. You can dry everything else and use it later for tea.

Infused honey: Use a generous amount of chopped needles in a mason jar. Cover with honey. If there’s plant matter above the level of the honey, flip the jar over once a day to discourage mold growth. Keep it in a warm place, and taste it periodically. In 4-6 weeks, the honey should have that regal conifer flavor.

Infused olive oil: Cover with olive oil, keep in somewhat warm place. Don’t use heat to infuse it. It’s easy to overshoot. Let it sit for 6 weeks. The flavor is heavenly! Lovely drizzled on goat cheese & fruit, used in a salve, or made into a beautiful facial cream like Rosalee de la Foret did.

Infused vinegar (great on salads), butter (good in patés, eggs, fudge), brandy…you get the idea. It’s good in just about everything.

A preparation that really packs a punch is a Douglas Fir shrub:

1. Place a handful of Douglas Fir branches in a mason jar.
2. Cover ⅔ way with apple cider vinegar, top off with honey.
3. Cover and let macerate for 3-4 weeks. Start tasting it 2 weeks into it. Strain it when the flavor comes through.

I use this like Fire Cider. At the onset of a cold or sore throat, or just for an afternoon pick me up, I’ll put a splash of this in a mug of hot water. You can add more honey, ginger, or even a little lemon juice. It’s one of the things I like to keep in my bag.

Out of any preparation, I make teas the most frequently. It’s gentle, has a great flavor, and is both stimulating and grounding drunk throughout the day. I highly recommend brewing the needles with Reishi, Turkey Tail, or other medicinal mushroom. It also pairs well with Devil’s Club for immune support & inflammation (especially rheumatism), Labrador Tea for coughs & colds, or hawthorn berries for an uplifting & stimulating beverage. One of my standbys is Douglas fir tips/Hawthorn berry/Reishi fruitbody/Astragalus root/Laborador tea leaves. It’s a good ally in Winter. 

My favorite, if I had to choose, would be Douglas Fir Chai.

In a smallish pot or crockpot, toss in:

• Handful of Douglas Fir tips
• 3 whole cloves
• A few allspice berries
• Cinnamon stick
• Pinch of cardamom pods
• Pinch black (or pink or white) peppercorns
• Pinch of chopped nutmeg

Slowly heat up to a low boil. Simmer for hours. Strain into mugs, and sweeten with a little honey & cream. Now you’re prepared to brave anything.

This is a tree that I’d love to see more connection with. As abundant and available as it is, this tree can lend a helping hand in getting through Winter’s challenges. I’d love to see more people work with it, and am excited to hear other people’s experiences. It’s not the most widely popular plant ever, but a big part of me thinks it should be. Drop me a line or leave a comment!

For more on Douglas Fir & tree medicine:

• Watch Teachings of the Tree People, a short film on the life & work of Bruce Miller.
• Elise Krohn has a great post on fir, spruce & hemlock tips on her blog Wild Foods and Medicines.
• Ananda Wilson’s post on conifer tree potions is a must read, and inspired this post.
• Rebecca has a few great posts on conifers on her site. You can start with this one on gathering & processing them.
• David Suzuki’s book Tree: A Life Story, is a biography of Douglas Fir.

In the depth of Winter, we confront dark, hard, uncomfortable things. I doubt I’m the only one recovering from the turmoil of 2012, ducking from the seasonal bugs whizzing through our communities, and trying to find solace & a silver lining from the horrific events we’ve witnessed in the last few months.  It’s been a rough few months, I won’t lie. But tea—well, that makes everything a bit better.  Teas (infusions & decoctions) make available some very useful compounds to rebalance our physiologies. But they’re also satisfying, comforting & soulful.

During Winter, I embrace the medicine of the trees, lichen, and fungi. I suppose part of it is out of necessity; there just isn’t much else in the way of aerial plant parts. But it’s the upward movement & verticality of tree medicine—the promise of new growth in a season of fog, mist, and pooling water—that lifts my spirits. For that reason, tree tips, branches & leaves find their way into many of this season’s botanical preparations. I use them in teas, baths, foot baths, infused oils & vinegars, and honeys.

Some of my favorite tea blends include:

• Usnea/Chaga/Ashwaganda root/Reishi fruitbody/Devil’s club stem bark/Spruce tips/Osha root (pictured above)
• Hawthorn berry/Devil’s club/Rose petals
• Usnea/Douglas fir tips/Hawthorn berry/Reishi fruitbody/Astragalus root/Laborador tea leaves
• Chaga/Osha root chai
• Hawthorn berry/Rosehip chai
• Usnea/Balsamroot chai (can you tell I enjoy chai teas?)

All of these are prepared as a decoction. (See previous post in tea making.) Regarding amounts: I never measure. A pinch of this & that, eyeball the amount of water. I really only use measurements when I’m making lotions & creams, tinctures, and solid extracts. For infused oils, water infusions, decoctions, vinegars, honeys & salves, I don’t bother. I think those products fare better when you rely on your senses. For a little brush up, here’s a very speedy summary of some of the herbs named above:

• Usnea (Usnea spp): A lichen known for its antimicrobial constituents. Becoming increasingly rare in the Pacific Northwest; only gather that which has been blown down from a storm.
• Aswaganda (Withania somnifera): Grounding, calming adaptogen. Helps restore thyroid & adrenal function.
• Devil’s club (Oplopanax horridum): Expectorant, adaptogen, blood sugar modifier. Known by many as a warrior plant & heart protector.
• Astragalus (Astragalus membranaceus): Warming immune tonic, wei qi restorative, liver & cardiovascular tonic.
• Labrador tea (Ledum groelandicum): Also known as Swamp Tea, Indian Tea, Marsh Tea. Traditionally enjoyed by Salish peoples for a variety of purposes. Aromatic, slightly spicy, excellent in decoctions with hawthorn berry, Devil’s club, and Reishi.
• Hawthorn berry (Crataegus spp.): Cardiovascular tonic, nervine (thanks 7Song!), adds a very pleasant semi-tart taste to teas.
• Chaga (Inonotus obliquus): Immune support, anti-oxidant. Currently being studyes for anti-mutagenic & chemopreventive properties. Bitter & dark, used in Russia as a coffee substitute.
• Reishi (Ganoderma lucidum): Immune support, liver & cardiovascular tonic. Long history of use in TCM for lungs/heart. A true adaptogen & effective anti-inflammatory. See previous post. 
• Osha root (Lingusticum porteri): Upper respiratory expectorant, aromatic bitter, Bear medicine.
• Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii): Helpful as a respiratory tonic, low-grade chronic/dry cough. Good on its own as a tea, but plays well with others. Has a tart, lemony flavor. High volatile oil content, many of which are antimicrobial & anti-inflammatory.

So as I recover from one of Winter’s many middle fingers—the stomach flu—with a hot cup of ginger/lemon/honey tea at my side, I invite you to deepen & beautify your tea making practice. It’s good, sacred & brings you home to yourself.

UK-based artist uses a flatbed scanner to produce images that are paradoxically shallow & deep. See more on his website in the series “Flatbed Roam”.

But health privilege also exists. It lives in unexamined notions of health, disease, and shapes the meaning of these experiences. Much like racial, gender, or socioeconomic privilege, health privilege shames the individual for being ill, attributing illness to New Age judgements of spiritual impotency, or impure thoughts/actions. It rears its head when someone asks you if you’re “still taking those crazy medications?!” or tells you that daily consumption of bentonite clay would have prevented it. When you enjoy unexamined health privilege, you may think that someone is ill because they ate poorly, or haven’t learned a karmic lesson yet, possess stuck/suppressed emotions, lived dis-harmoniously with Nature, or lack chuztpah or spiritual willpower. And we pass judgement. In the clinic, this can disrupt the healing process. I think it can even cause harm.

Herbalists, specifically community-oriented ones, can better understand and serve our clients & communities if we examine the types of health privilege we enjoy. This way, we can be better allies and be more effective partners in the healing of people & planet by taking responsibility for our constructs of health & illness.

See more on her website.

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The return of the Autumn rains awaken the slumbering mycelium, who stretch their hyphal networks through their respective substrates–eager to display their proud, bold fruitbodies. In eager anticipation of the wild delicacies (and especially the mycorrhizal species like chantrelles, porcini, matsutakes, and Candy caps, which resist human cultivation as they grow only in association with certain tree roots), mycophiles and foragers hit the forests…raincoats, wool hats, cute little baskets and all.

All mushrooms have their mystique. Like plants, they are their own universe. Being a plant person, I was truthfully more than a bit overwhelmed to begin learning about mushrooms. Structurally, they can resemble plants. But metabolically, they are more like animals—oxygen breathing, external-stomach-having, animalistic occupants of their own dikariotic kingdom. And throughout the centuries, certain cultures have been more mycophillic and mycophobic than others. Western Europe, for the most part, eschewed our fungal friends, whereas Asian societies embraced them for food and medicine for over 2 millenia (some sources say 4 or even 7 millenia). In the Western world, we’re beginning to befriend our fungal allies and, in the process, opening previously sealed doors of perception.

Mycelium concept painting by Leo Tsang http://ltsang.blogspot.com

Learning about and understanding other life often feels like solving a riddle. I know, I know—developing these relationships is not a problem to be solved. Nevertheless I often default to thinking this way. And Reishi is one of the Emperors of Mystery—a grand riddle to solve, a mystery to decode. What makes this enigmatic mushroom perplexing is its wide reach and numerous points of contact with the human animal. Its range is extensive. It can be found wild in North and South America, Asia, and Europe. Most of its traditional use is concerned with spiritual potency and longevity, and some of the names bestowed upon it include 10,000 Year Mushroom, Mushroom of Immortality, Herb of Spiritual Potency. Reishi translate into English as “Spirit/divine mushroom”. Its Chinese name Ling Zhi roughly translates to “Spirit plant”. Written in Chinese, the 3 characters mean “shaman” “praying for” and “rain”. The latin name Ganoderma lucidum is significantly more profane—Gan=“shiny”, derm=“skin”, lucidum=“shiny”. I’ll leave it to my most capable reader to deduce Reishi’s appearance.

San Shin, a Korean mountain spirit who universal love, compassion & benevolence.

Its historic associations with longevity, spiritual potency & vigor are evident in cultural artifacts of Ancient Chinese and Japanes culures. In Japan, emperor’s staffs donned a carving of the the sacred mushroom. It was depicted in temples, tapestries, and other works of art of the era. Kuan Yin, goddess of compassion, is often depicted holding it. In some settings, Reishi was regarded as a panacea. But looking at the scope of traditional use, 4 themes can seen: treatment for an assortment of liver ailments, lung conditions (asthma, bronchitis, etc.), hypertension, and nervous conditions (insomnia, nerve pain, the like). And in TCM, it’s regarded to be warming, nourishing, detoxifying, astringent, and dispersive of stuck energy. It was used to nourish the Heart official, which stores shen (or Spirit). It was used for those with deficient qi and blood, which underlies a host of pathologies. (It also held a place in folk magic. Hung above the door, it repelled evil spirits. Women also gifted men the antler forms of Reishi to express sexual interest.)

The antler form of Reishi, which occurs when grown in a high CO2 environment. ©Ron Spinosa

(A note on taxonomy: for the purposes of this post, unless designated otherwise, Reishi means Ganoderma lucidum. For the foragers, G. lucidum is found on hardwoods. If you see a similar polypore on a conifer, chances are good that it’s G. tsugae or G. applanatum, which are now thought to be the same species. While these other species haven’t been studied as extensively, the overlap in terms of energetics, constituents, and therapeutics is growing.)

Clinical studies on Reishi are extensive. It’s the most well-studied medicinal mushroom in Western medicine. PubMed results for Ganoderma: 1080. For the sake on comparison, Trametes versicolor (Turkey Tail) comes in at 511 results, Grifola frondosa (Maitake): 217. Research supports Reishi in improving host immune response, inhibiting the histamine response, supporting cardiovascular health, lung/respiratory support (especially when combined with Cordyceps sinensis), hepatoprotection, chemoprevention, as an adjunct to chemotherapy and radiotherapy, antiviral, and as an antiinflammatory.

A lot of the current excitement around medicinal mushrooms is due to the research developments and popularization of β-glucans. Beta glucans refer to a class of molecules (which include β 1,3 glucan, β 1,6 glucan, D-fraction, etc.) that are high molecular weight/large branched chains of polysaccharides that originate in the chitin that comprises the fungal cell walls. These polysaccharides are connected by beta linkages, meaning that they resist denaturing by the enzymes present in our digestive systems. (Compare this to starches, which are linked by alpha linkages.) As a result, they pass through our digestive processes intact. Depending on the molecule, they then bind to one or several receptors on innate immune cells (TLR, Dectin-1, or CR3) where they mimic an antigen, therefore triggering an immune response. Reishi fruitbodies contain around a 41% beta glucan content (according to Paul Stamets), which increase macrophage activity, TNF-α, NK cells, IL-1, IL-2 and T cells. It can contain over 100 different immune supporting polysaccharides, including beta glucans, proteoglycans (protein-bound polysaccharides), ganna-D mannans, heteropolysaccharides, and others.

Some researchers and clinicians hold this immune stimulation to be responsible for the chemopreventive qualities of Reishi. The Ngeihm hypothesis, for example, holds that this mechanism makes immune-evading cancer cells visible to macrophages and neutrophils, preventing tumor development. (Numerous other mechanisms are proposed, including modulating of the p53 checkpoint. However, this is beyond the scope of this post. See resources below.) Reishi has also been studied to be a safe and effective adjunct to chemotherapy and radiotherapy, due to its ability to ameliorate toxic side effects, supporting immunity, alleviating oxidative stress, and sensitizing drug-resistant tumor cells to chemotherapy drugs. In fact, it’s officially sanctioned for this use in Japan.

Ganoderma commercial cultivation.

Furthermore, as a result of its ability to stimulate a T1 immune response, it’s helpful in balancing T1/T2 immunity, which can be a cause of autoimmune disorders. Reishi is my personal favorite for inflammation—including neuroinflammation, which is particularly tricky to treat. People have had positive experienes with arthritic pain as well. And on the neuro note, it protects the brain from beta amyloid damage. This has powerful implications for Alzheimer’s prevention research. It also acts as a mild CNS relaxant, helpful in insomnia, anxiety, and muscle tension. I love Reishi for this—especially a nice, long decoction of it.

But that’s not to say that β-glucans are the star of the show. Other compounds in its fruitbodies (specifically, Ling Zhi 8, ergosterols, ganoderic and lucidenic acids) are biologically active. And there can be over 200 of them. Its triterpenes (ganoderic & lucidenic acids) is responsible for its adaptogenic/antihypertensive qualities. These are the compounds that can modulate the allergic response, as they stabilize IgE, IgM, IgA, IgG antibodies. (I’ve found this particuarly helpful for food allergies. A blend of 5 Ganoderma species have saved my behind a couple times post-gluten ingestion…) Reishi contains sterols in the fruitbodies as well (such as Ganoderans A & B), which acts as hormone precursors. These can help lower plasma blood sugar levels.

Cloned Reishi, mycelium growing out on petri dish. Courtesy MycoEssentials.

One of its key uses in contemporary culture is in lung & respiratory support. Mice studies have demonstrated expectorant and antitussive qualities. I don’t use it for this purpose, but I do notice that it has a particular affinity for the heart/upper chest area. Again–back to Heart nourishment.

But one can easily see the subtleties and complexities of this being. No wonder if was such a prized fungus until the development of cultivation techniques. Now it’s easily available at herb shops and online. But one may be overwhelmed by what’s offered. I’ll break it down:

• Buy quality Reishi grown in the United States
• Fruitbodies have the triterpenes, sterols, and some β-glucans. The mycelium (the immune system of the mushroom) contains β-glucans, arabinoxylances (if grown out on brown rice, antimicrobial compounds, and some of the more delicate enzymes. Products that have combined fruitbody/mycelium powder are my preference
• You need heat or freeze drying to make the polysaccharides bioavailable

(I increasingly see more and more novel preparations of Reishi—like cracked spore supplements, spore oil, etc. There’s little to support its use. Reishi spores began being analyzed only in 2009. But it’s something to watch. Reishi disperses a huge amount of spores. So no doubt someone’s trying to find a use for them.)

It’s an enthusiastic sporulator.

Reishi plug spawn. Courtesy GHMP.

And you can easily grow your own Reishi indoors, or on logs. It’ll do well on oak, plum, maple, or birch. In the wild, it’s found on hardwoods. And it’s known as a ‘butt-rot’ fungus (yep), meaning that it grows throughout the roots and lower part of the trunk. It’s a primary saphrophyte (meaning it grows on fresh organic material, like wood) and a very weak parasite. Once a tree dies, 2-3 years afterwards is when you can expect to see Reishi growing on it. (This hasn’t stopped some paranoid foresters and landscapers from regarding it as an aggressive, parasitic invader. Correct these folks when you can. Ganoderma is not parasitic. It’s a saprophyte.) If you see it growing on conifers (mostly hemlock, seldomly a spruce), it’s Hemlock Reishi or Ganoderma tsugae or applanatum). It’s a bit more bitter, but its uses in supporting health are thought to be very similar. Like most mushrooms, Reishi grow out from mycelium, to spawn, to end fruiting substrate occurs in 7-day increments—following a lunar cycle, as Stamets pointed out to me a couple of weeks ago. In Western esoteric traditions, the Moon is thought to rule our fungal friends.

Reishi in the wild as butt-rot. Note the white leading edge of growth and shiny exterior. Courtesy http://shroomsgonewild.com

In terms of making medicine, you’ve got some options with Reishi. A decoction is the traditional way it was prepared. You can toss in some aromatic chai spices in there: star anise, allspice, cinnamon, nutmeg. Or even juniper berries, conifer tips, chicory, carob, cocao beans. Or other immune-supporting herbs like astragalus, or adaptogenic herbs like ashwaganda and Devil’s club. Work with your local plants and be wild with this. Get creative and let me know what you come up with! Here’s one of my favorite brews for a happy, full, powerful Heart:

• Reishi fruibody
• Devil’s club root bark
• Hawthorn berries
• Rose petals
• A touch of blackberry honey, perhaps with some Wild Ginger flower essence

One of favorite ways to use Reishi is in soup stocks. I love to put the following in a crockpot or large pot:

• A couple chunks of Reishi
• A few slices of Astragalus root
• Chopped up Burdock root
• Handful of Nettle leaves
• 2 Bay leaves
• A slice of kombu (or other seaweed if you’re feeling badass)
• Some bones—a couple beef marrow bones, leftover chicken carcass, whatever you have around.
• A splash of apple cider vinegar

Turn on the heat and simmer overnight. Strain and use in a soup, or freeze it in mason jars (leave room for it to expand!) to use later. Immune broths, I’m convinced, are the answer to life. Other than stocks & such, they’re too chitinous and tough to be used in other culinary applications. I’ve heard of foragers enjoying the sauteed young & tender Reishi fruits, but I wouldn’t want to harvest a premature Reishi (personally).

When harvesting, you want to find relatively mature Reishi fruitbodies. If they still have a band of white around the edge, it’s still growing. Once you harvested them, slice them up quickly and then stick them in a freezer for 24 hours in a plastic bag. Reishi species often contain Horned beetle eggs. If slices are left to dry, they’ll hatch in the Spring and consume your supply. And that’s just a bummer all around.

Tincturing mushrooms are a bit different than tincturing plants. You essentially want to do a double extraction—one with alcohol, one hot water, then combine. Broken down, here are the steps:

1. Harvest, slice & dry Reishi (or purchase it dried).
2. Place slices into mason jar, cover with vodka or grain alcohol diluted to 75% (strength depends on your preferences and medicine-making style).
3. Let macerate for 2-4 weeks in dark place.
4. Strain out alcohol, place marc (Reishi slices) in saucepan.
5. Cover with water, and turn heat on medium. When the water reaches a medium boil, turn heat down and simmer for 2 hours.
6. Strain, set aside tea. Compost the Reishi slices.
7. Once the tea has cooled, add it to the alcohol tincture. The end result should be about half alcohol extract and half hot water extract.

The same method would apply to shiitake, turkey tail, and any other mushrooms.

Reishi is a dynamic, life-giving universe unto itself. Its ability to nourish at the deepest level of Heart and Spirit shows itself in its historic and traditional use, the myriad clinical studies concerning it today, and its spiritual significance. I encourage you to learning more about this benevolent mushroom. The following books are excellent and highly recommended.

Elsewhere on the web:

• Watch Paul Stamet’s 2011 TEDMED talk on medicinal mushrooms
• Guido Mase has a handout on medicinal mushrooms.
• For those local to Puget sound, check out the Puget Sound Mycological Society for events, forays, and more. (If you’re not local, the North American Mycological Association lists local chapters and mushroom clubs.)
• The Mushroom Forager blog has a worthwhile post on Reishi.

Ernst Haeckel

The more I learn, grow, develop new skills, reach out to new groups, try to engage creative social change, I’m consistently reminded that most of our thinking and decision making is driven by unconscious processes. (One of the articulations of this is Buddha’s metaphor of the Elephant and the Rider—where the rational, conscious mind is the rider, and the elephant, the subconscious. A crude metaphor, yes. But the take-away is valuable—where the elephant goes, so does the rider. It’s why marketers, politicians, and anyone else that tries to persuade does so through engaging your deeper emotional being, despite their methods appearing so artless to our neocortex.) And I think this is a source of a lot of resistance to creative change and evoluation in groups, communities, and societies.

I was at mycology seminar this past weekend, and spent a minute or two considering ecological innovation in leading the way for subconscious thought transformation. The developments in mycology today are jaw-dropping—medicinal mushrooms and their ability to support immune system adaptation, mycelium to filter agricultural waste and water-born contaminants, bioremediation of petrochemicals & nuclear waste, mycopesticides. And I’m thrilled to be working so closely with them.

These technologies are certainly stunning in their ingenuity and simplicity. They’re truly elegant designs and disruptive innovations. But what’s even more interesting is the application of mycological metaphors to systemic change. Social networks as hyphal networks, mycelium as a neurological network of nature, fungi as transformers/decomposing forces, fungi as connective tissue of the Earth. In a historically mycophobic society, this heralds a shift in consciousness. In a society who hasn’t previously really understood or embraced the fungal realm, it’s now picking up and revolutionizing diverse industries, fields of study and scientific inquiry.

I think a big reason for this is the deep knowledge gained from new aspect of the ecosystem, and this is spurring a change in those subconscious thought patterns. Can you imagine the potential for our evolution if we embrace the sheer power of the life forms of our biosphere, or the jewels inherent in our interspecies relationships? We have still only touched the tip of the iceberg of knowing and relating to our planet. What rich insights and revolutionary metaphors await us? Those at the forefront—the herbalists, permaculturists, artists, farmers, community organizers, educators, scientists, medicine carriers, spiritual leaders—can engage one another to inspire generational impact that can ultimately open doors we never knew existed.

It’s right under our nose and deep in the Center of the Earth—all at the same time. Our work with ecology can and will change our psychologies.

Rosemary sprigs, Tera Warner, 2010.

The rains returned this weekend. We’ve had a clear, crisp, exlated & majestic late summer and autumn–maple leaves waning in chlorophyll, leaving the anthocynanins to dazzle our retinas will their brilliant hues of red, orange, and gold. But the cool rains have tapped us on the shoulder every now and then, as if sending a text that it’ll be here in a few days or so. (Is that too far a stretch? Living in the smartphone era…) It’s as if we were being tempered to the onset of the season of Water, given that we’d all dried out like little lizards over the past 3 months. But the grey, misty curtain is redrawn over the Pacific Northwest, as the Earth begins its rest for another season of growth ahead. Me, I’m a sun creature, but I can pony up. It’s time for the rains.

Wilting Oplopanax leaves near Olympia, WA.

Much like late summer, a palpable feeling of being rushed is afoot. The stark green leaves of the flora of the forest twist into golden, rusted filaments. As the plants pull their energy down to their roots, it’s optimal harvesting time for these medicines. So just when you want to rest, drink mulled cider & read books all day, it’s time to put on your rubber boots, woman up, and brave the rain to craft medicines to stock up your apothecary.

The posts on the medicine of our Cascadian roots will follow. For now, let’s glance in the direction of one of our most abundant, enchanting, and ancient remedies: Rosemary. Also known as Dew of the Sea (Latin: ros (dew) marinus (sea)), Elf leaf, Guardrobe, Polar Plant, Compass Plant. Rosemary’s a particularly good one to know and to have on your side (and kitchen, tea canister, above your doorway, incense blend, etc.). Its origins lie in the Mediterranean, so it’s an evergreen in our climate. I’m unsure exactly how Rosemary migrated to this region, but I’m inclined to think that it was brought over by European colonizers and spread throughout the continent because of the lack of documented use in North American first peoples. It’s likely that Europeans brought it over for its medicinal and preserving qualities, where it’s since become such a popular garden herb and ornamental. But I don’t feel comfortable being definitive on its introduction to North America.

This full-sun-loving plant is easily propagated by cuttings and planted as an ornamental outside of many local restuarants. It flowers twice annually: in the early Spring, as well as the early Fall. Bees just love its elegant, otherwordly flowers that are reminiscent of tiny, ethereal dancing fairies. There’s a legend of how Rosemary got its pale, alluring blue-purple flowers. It’s said that they were originally white until the Virgin Mary and her family was fleeing Egypt and took shelter in a Rosemary bush. As she drug her cloak over the plant, she effectively left her mark by transforming the pure white flowers into a symbol of the deity’s caress. Hence, “the Rose of Mary.”

Courtesy of Herb Companion.

You’d be hard pressed to find someone that hasn’t used rosemary—at least culinarily. Its notable aromatic qualities lend a flavor to soups, roasts, cookies, sorbet, lemonade (I could go on endlessly) that is truly majestic. But its history in medicine goes far back to the distant reaches of our ancient civilizations. It’s one of our oldest plant medicines. Ancient Greek physicians (namely, Dioscorides) established its use, which was soonafter adopted by Arabic physicians for strengthening memory. Notable European herbalist Nicholas Culpeper advocated its use as a digestive aid, claiming its virtues in alleviating “gastrointestinal windiness”. Sebastian Kneipp, 19th century Bavarian priest & one of the world’s first naturopaths, used Rosemary for cardiac edema and congestive heart failure, and thought it to be especially useful as a remedy for elders. He particularly liked prescribing a Rosemary-infused white wine. (Not a bad idea, eh?) On a related note, Juliet de Baircli Levy treasured this plant as one of her cure-alls for cardiac conditions (including CHF). But she also regarded it as a tonic nervine (especially when infused in honey) and a wound remedy.

Rosemary continues to appear in contemporary Western herbalists’ formulas and materia medicas. Its use in practice stems mainly from its warming, drying, dispersive qualities and affinity for the cardiovascular system, brain, and GI tract. With all its notable volatile oils, Rosemary helps disperse stuck, damp, cold, stagnant energy. It’s particularly helpful, I’ve found, with cold, damp, lymphatic stagnation that often accompanies the chronic infections, sluggishness, melancholy, and general malaise that we see here in late Winter. Especially when stinky discharges are concerned. If you know someone who’s got cold, damp hands & feet, brain fog, is depressed, pale, thin, deficient, Rosemary might be a good herb for them.

Rosemary illustration by William Clark, 1833.

The research around Rosemary is rich and complex. It gets a fair amount of attention as an herb for memory & cognitive support, for which it excels. A few mechanisms have been proposed, but its ability to promote cerebral circulation is well established. (For this purpose, I love to combine it with Ginkgo biloba). Its leaves also contain carnosic acid, which may help prevent oxidative damage in neurons. A helpful indication, as I don’t think we can have too much neuroprotection these days.

Rosemary contains rosmarinic acid in its leaves, a potent polyphenol being studied for its role in neuroprotection. Polyphenols tend to have antioxidant properties (generally speaking), and rosmarinic acid is also antiinflammatory & antimicrobial. Have you noticed it in body care or supplements as a preservative? Now you know where it comes from. Rosmarinic acid is also found in sage, thyme, oregano, lemon balm, and other Lamiaceae family plants. New research is focusing on its potential role in mediating GABA expression. Seen references to Rosemary being a nervine, or slightly stimulating? It’s not an either/or situation, but a both+and. I find it tonifying and normalizing–it’ll clear your head without being stimulating per se, which is in itself quite calming.

This is the only time I’ll use a tincture of Rosemary, in fact. Otherwise, I’m quite content with passing someone a tea blend with Rosemary. And this is a plant with a long, deep, persistent use as an Herbe of Remembrance. A popular tradition in Europe was to lay boughs of it on headstones at funerals (or planting it on graves), as a means of displaying honor, connection, and remembrance of loved ones past. With similar intentions, it was also commonly seen at weddings, churches, banquet halls, and other places of gathering. Clinical research now affirms Rosemary’s benefit in memory and cognition: Color. Me. Surprised.

It was also regarded as an herb of protection, hung above a doorway, or planted outside the home to ward off witchcraft (or stuffed under a pillow to drive away nightmares…that kind of thing.). It was used in the popular ‘Four Thieves’ recipe during the era of the Bubonic plague–its antimicrobial volatile oils surely lending some benefit. (And have you seen it in meat rubs, along with other aromatic herbs? Not only delicious, but helpful in keeping the proliferation of unwanted microbes away.) As a toast to the old recipe, I like to toss in some Rosemary sprigs with my seasonal fire cider (tumeric root is also a great addition). It also has a niche in the American hoodoo tradition as an herb of women’s luck, peaceful home, fidelity, protection, and beauty when used as a wash or in a gris gris bag.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Rosemary has long been associated with female deities, and is regarded as an herb for female protection, beauty, and power. There’s an old saying, “Where Rosemary flourishes, the mistress rules.” (I give a tip o’ the hat to my 6’ Rosemary plant outside!) Not only do we see it associated with the Virgin Mary, but with Aphrodite. One tale depicts Aphrodite rising out of the sea draped in Rosemary boughs. Dew of the Sea, rising skywards onto land. It strikes a cord, especially when we consider its warming, dispersive qualities. From water to air–evaporative, expansive, solar qualities and actions. Western esoteric traditions denote it as an herb of the Sun. With regards to beauty, its a key herb in the legenday Queen of Hungary’s water. Oil blends with its essential oil are also commonly used topically for hair loss. (The tea also makes an excellent hair rinse, especially when combined with Rose, Red Clover, Comfrey, and Horsetail.)

Rosemary illustration by Louise M. Smith, 2008. http://www.greenstems.com

The story of Rosemary is a complex and evolving web. In considering the Sun, and then our own internal digestive fire, this plant emerges yet again! Its tannins and bitter compounds are astringent, and tonifying to tissues. It’s nice to blend this with Raspberry or Salmonberry leaves for the ole ‘sour gut’ feeling. Its aromatic qualities make it stimulating to the apetite, as well as a fine carminative (helpful for gastrointestinal windiness, I presume!).

The aromatic nature of Rosemary changes throughout the seasons. In Spring/early Summer, it’s particularly sweet, its aroma well-rounded. It gets sharp and quite camphor-like in the Summer’s heat (particularly during a drought), then slightly bitter in the fall. I harvest & use Rosemary year-round, using it mostly as a tea. Its versatility shines in all the ways it can be crafted into medicine & nourishment–as tincture, infused oil, liniment, salve, essential oil, preservative (as an essential oil), culinary herb, and incense. Like all plants (and other forms of life), it’s its own universe.

Rosemary is quite safe (as well as abundant), so it’s an herb to be widely embraced and celebrated in community herbal practice. The only times you’d want to be careful with Rosemary is during pregnancy, due to its action as an emenagogue. Other than that, there’s little in the way of herb-drug interactions or contraindications. (But if you want to be extra thorough, there are some in vitro studies you could review on the subject.) Corinne Boyer, an herbalist in Shelton, WA (who’s taught me a lot), doesn’t like to tincture plants with such high amounts of volatile oils. This resonates with me, and I don’t use it often. Just a thought. It’s potent stuff. The polyphenols, tannins & aromatic compounds really come through in the tea anyhow. A light decoction is perfect–especially with Burdock root & Yarrow. Exquisite!

So as we’re heading into Winter, remember Rosemary. Its complexity and versatility is a true testament to the multidimensional nature of the plant world. Wondrously abundant in our region, think of it when you encounter dark, dank, cold, stagnant energy/lymph fluid, malaise & melancholy. This babe of a plant will inspire clarity, majesty, beauty & expansiveness in our pale, pasty, Northwest souls.

Elsewhere on the web & print:

• Jim McDonald has a great article on aromatics in the latest Fall issue of Plant Healer Magazine that would behoove you to read.
• Rosalee de la Foret of Methow Valley Herbs has a wonderful post on Rosemary.
• Kiva Rose has a great post on Rosemary, with some notes on its potential role in supporting the liver.
• Rebecca of King’s Road Apothecary recently posted a recipe for apple-rosemary coffee cake, wherein she refers to Rosemary as a glorious witch who whisks away the cobwebs and fogginess of individuals predisposed to cold, damp states.

Sources

Grieve, M. (1931). A Modern Herbal (Vol. 2). New York: Dover.

Hoffman, D. (2003). Medical Herbalism: The Science Principles and Practices Of Herbal Medicine. Healing Arts Press.

Weiss, R.F. (2001). Weiss’s Herbal Medicine. Stuttgart, Germany: Thieme.

Wood, M. (2008). The Earthwise Herbal: A Complete Guide to Old World Medicinal Plants. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books.

I think we’re going to be seeing the emergence of a new model of herbal practice and education, for a couple of reasons: An adaptation to changes in the healthcare industry and regulatory agencies, and to engage the larger social system and other social and environmental movements in large-scale change. Herbalists are uniquely positioned to be agents of change and transformation because they stand and work at the nexus of human and Nature, and are oriented to affirming and nurturing life in all its manifestations.

Herbalists innately understand life, complexity, diversity, and resilience. These ideas and topics are now becoming very in-vogue and seen as innovative with social change theorists, social entrepreneurs, activists, etc. But they’re the very foundation of herbal practice, and that’s been with us since the beginnings of mankind. This is our heritage; the torch we carry onto the next generations.

And when asked advice I’d give to new herbalists:

I think the most valuable piece of advice I could give is to encourage people to stay open, curious, and inquiring. It’s so often the case that we get extremely inspired or even overwhelmed by the work of others. It can either light up, expand and energize us, or fold and turn inward, closing us and inciting insecurity, envy, and smallness. Herbalism is a beautifully brilliant, dazzingly complex and dynamic field. People spend their whole lives developing mastery, and always feel like there’s more to learn. My best teachers have been ones that I’ve observed to be open, humble, inquisitive, and ever supportive of other herbalists. It’s being a stepping stone, and someone that empowers others, even if it doesn’t feed your ego. Just be open, be happy to learn, support the success of others, and welcome the hard and necessary lessons. Try not to take things personally. And also, try not to be a jerk. (It’s just a good life strategy in general.)

I absolutely love writing outside in the Summer. In the Pacific Northwest, clear, open skies can be rare. When it’s sunny and pleasant, we are like solar panels, soaking up every available ray, letting our spirits be infused by the blooming Nootka roses, the ripening salmonberries, and the glaring, spectacular foxglove stalks. In this exalted light and heat of Summer, I have some special things I want to share with you. (And you can bet I’m writing it outside!)

Flowers of lavender, thyme & sage.

In June, I completed my Master’s thesis—a culmination of a 10-month ethnography exploring the role of plant traditions in diabetes prevention and addiction treatment in Salish tribal communities. Additionally, over the last year and a half, I’ve been collaboratively running the Olympia Free Herbal Clinic (OFHC) as a member of a collective of 7 herbalists. We are presently forming a nonprofit called The Dandelion Seed Community Health Project, which will feature the free herbal clinic as one of its programs. This type of endeavor is a complex labor-of-love and juggling act, involving obtaining business licensure, organizing and recruiting a Board of Directors, managing volunteers, organizing a conference, teaching workshops, maintaining apothecary inventory, organizing a host of outreach and fundraising activities, and the list goes on. As a collective, each of us wears many hats. But we all definitely bear the title of Manager of Chaos. So I finished my thesis, graduated, and now have a bit of space to sit back, gaze at the flowers, and reflect. Specifically, I’m reflecting on the last few years of working with plant traditions to inspire social change in collaborative and community settings. It’s my desire to share these musings with you and the herbal community as a whole.  I’ve learned so much from those who have walked before me, as well as those who walk with me now on this path of plants and healing.

The world of plants has inspired me since childhood, being an endless source of fascination, enchantment, and wonder. In following this allure and heeding their call, my passions have broadened. Currently, I’ve been intrigued by how plants affect social and ecological identity, and have come to understand that plant traditions are indeed an inextricable aspect of it. The network of symbiotic relationships and connections between humans and other life forms orient us in our habitat and in the cosmos. I’ve also noticed that this connection is an overlooked one in mainstream American social change and innovation practices. And that’s unfortunate, because revitalizing and creating herbal traditions and ethnobotanical practices can spur authentic and systemic social change through a variety of ways, by:

• Broadening perception of place,
• Inspiring self, family, and community care,
• Orienting our selves as humans in time and in habitat.

Working with plant traditions (in their revitalization as well as creation) are fascinatingly paradoxical. They are simultaneously old and new, ancient and innovative. These traditions carry knowledge so ancient, vast, and are the foundation of our species biological and cultural evolution. They are also new, innovative, and deeply pertinent to the challenges of a contemporary, global society.

Plants traditions are also simultaneously simplex and complex. They can be as simple as passing down a grandmother’s cold remedy or gathering dandelions in the backyard; And yet can be as complex as articulating cultural contexts of plant practices, assessing constitution, or learning phytochemistry and pharmacology. The relationships between plants and people are so profound, complex, and encompassing. And they’re fundamental in building culture. And if we can help or facilitate the emergence of a culture of health, diversity, and resilience, countless lives can be all the more nurtured.

Summer harvest baskets of hawthorn leaf & flower, calendula blossoms, tea leaves, Nootka rose petals.

I got to grasp this relationship all the more while working on my thesis with a Salish ethnobotanical program at Northwest Indian Treatment Center (NWITC)¹ near the Squaxin Island reservation in Elma, WA. The center features traditional plants education as the cornerstone of healing generational trauma, treating addiction, and preventing diabetes. June O’Brien, founder and director of the Native Plant Nutrition Program (NPNP), conveyed the transformation observed in patients:

And the patients wake up. There is something that happens between the patients and the plants that wakes them up in a way like nothing else does. You could say it wakes up their blood, or it wakes up their DNA, that their ancestors arrive on the scene. That the relationship between their place, their home, where they come from, what they’ve related to for tens of thousands of years, wakes up in them. And you can feel their spirit just climb up and shine through their eyes.

Both June and Elise Krohn, community herbalist and director of NPNP, see the potential of plant traditions to heal social and cultural wounds. While their program is specific to Northwest tribal communities, they remind us that plant traditions are an important part of all of our cultural heritages, and carry important medicine for these changing times.

Plant traditions reach far back into Earth’s history, and are considered to be our oldest form of healing and medicine. However, we do not have a template with how to wield this work in our global, highly mobile, technological age. That leaves room for experimentation, creativity, and collaboration in the ever-evolving movement to reconnect people with Nature, cultivate authentic presence, and build a culture of health. In developing the Dandelion Seed mission and vision statement, one of our key points is the potential of herbal traditions to build a culture of health in our community.

There are so many ways to inspire social change through herbal practice: education, policy and legal advocacy, clinical work and outreach, and more! That’s one thing I find so exciting as a community herbalist—learning and experiencing how different pracitioners, educators or communities connect with plants and their ecological communities. This is not in an effort to adopt or copy what another individual or community does. Rather, we can be inspired to deepen and broaden our connection and participation with community, place, and cosmos. In doing so, we can create something that is appropriate and effective for our communities.

One thing that continues to arise in observations of my projects (as well as others), which I want to present to you as crucial, is the importance of documenting your work. It is vital to have a track record for a project and the changes it potentially caused[1]. To communicate with other factions and institutions of society (who may or may not share your worldview and approach), documentation and evidence adds credibility and support to your approach. It also helps develop critical thinking and analysis, and assists in determining if a change in course is necessary.

We are then confronted with a challenge. What should one measure and document? We live in a reductionist, mechanistic society, with a philosophy of reality based in the Scientific Revolution and Cartesian dualism. The culture of American herbalists, however, deviates from those philosophical values and orientation. It acknowledges adaptations and fluxes unseen, favors holism and diverse lifeworlds. So what’s important to measure? The answer to this will vary among every organization, project, and initiative. There are no easy answers or one-approach fits all for program evaluations and outcomes measures. But it’s something to consider as members of a movement and facilitators of change.

Having one’s work documented makes a significant difference. To name one example, for my own research, I would have loved to have more supporting material of other programs that facilitate and revitalize local and cultural plant traditions. Documentation helps to build a foundation upon which to support the vision of a diverse, resilient, and sustainable world.

At OFHC, for example, we keep track of clients seen on a weekly, monthly and annual basis. We also track of students who have been able to attend our classes as the result of donations and other forms of support. We keep experimenting with different ways to understand how we are affecting the community, and figuring that out takes a little creativity and patience. At NPNP, the staff understood that the important things to document were the patient’s stories. A program evaluation tool is now being developed that is appropriate for this culture and traditional plants program.

Processing knotweed roots with a cup of puerh tea.

So this is my encouragement: experiment to creatively and positively affect culture through plant-people relationships, and document this so that you can make an argument for your approach (and so your colleagues and comrades can also learn!).

With that, I’d like to share what I’ve learned with you all. Throughout my experiences with community projects and organizations, some salient personal lessons have presented themselves—tokens of wisdom earned through dedication to building social and ecological community. It’s my intention to pass along something that can hopefully help you along your path in affecting change in the larger social sphere; to support your initiatives, collaborations & conspiracies to help make this world a better place.

• Examination of Personal Constructs, Mental Models, & Problem Frameworks: I can’t recall how many times I’ve gone into a meeting, started a project, or made a suggestion that fell flat because it was too disconnected from the situation at hand. There have been countless times where I thought I knew what’s going on, when, in fact, my mental model of the situation was pretty far off from the reality. This is something we all continually practice: You have to know your own mental frameworks, perceptual filters, and constructs before you can realistically assess a situation and subsequently act on it. This gets especially important in multicultural settings.  ‘Know thyself’ is wise advice.

• Consistency with Local Constructs of Health: Similarly, initiatives aimed at serving a community should be grounded in the knowledge and ways of that place. You’ve seen those ‘top-down’ approaches to community work, where an organization arrives on the scene and delivers a prescribed, pre-determined initiative. It’s ultimately ineffective and disrespectful to what’s there. This point stuck out like a sore thumb when researching tribal conceptions, beliefs and constructs of diabetes in comparison to those of Western biomedicine. Many diabetes prevention programs are designed by teams of doctors and public health officials with often no grounding in that community’s health constructs. As a result, they fail. And programs built by tribal leaders for tribal communities are effective.

• Community Engagement and Input: There is a powerful saying by Richard Beckhard, “People support what they create.” Co-creation with people in the community ensures groundedness, authentic action, creative presence, and diversity in a project. At OFHC, we regularly solicit input from others through community forums and other informal means. In putting together a Board of Directors, we will have 3 people that are current or former patients of the clinic (or represent another consituency in the community). A board space allows space for these voices, as well as community forums, surveys, meet-and-greet events, etc.

• Diplomacy with Disruptive Innovations: Disruptive innovations refer to changes that, true to their label, disrupt the way the way things typically work. Genuine social change is disruptive to the status quo. And systems have protective mechanisms and can often interpret disruptive changes as threatening (these are known as balancing mechanisms in general systems theory). If provoked, the system will take steps toward equilibrium and attempt to neutralize the disruption. You’ve seen this kind of pushback and backfire many times. Push someone too far and they push back. Riot police round up and arrest protestors. The immune system will produce immune cytokines once an antigen is detected.

Some of the systems of control in place anticipate and plan for this, and are thus able to swiftly deal with dissenters when they follow a learned pattern. This is why it’s wise to strategize social change in the most grounded, present, and organic way possible as opposed to following others’ models or tactics.

That said, progress with the awareness of the balancing mechanisms or pushbacks potentially at play in the system in which you’re working. Plan for it. Be diplomatic and tactful when creating alliances and communicating your message. In terms of the Dandelion Seed organization and OFHC, as our project grows, so do we get more attention–wanted, and otherwise. We are planning for this by proactively building alliances with a variety of healthcare professionals, and even an attorney or two.

• Patience, Perseverance, & Steadfastness: Change can take a long time. Community organizing and development also takes a long time. The more entrenched a system is in its ways, the more difficult it can be to shift. You might feel discouraged, doubtful, frustrated. It happens to everybody. Perseverance becomes a key character trait in this kind of work. OFHC has been operating for 4 years; NPNP has been going for 8. Change takes time, and projects can take years to gain real traction.

• Developing Common Ground through Values Orientation & Shared Vision: When collaborating with others, a myriad of conflicts and disagreements can arise. It often behooves the group to have a shared mission and vision, as well as agreements regarding common values. If the group is rooted in these basic understandings, the heart of the project can be nurtured and further developed in the wake of surface conflicts. At OFHC, we run into this consistently, as we operate as a collective of 7 on informal consensus. When disagreements arise, we go back a step and revisit the purpose of our organization and program, and that usually clears up disagreements about the form of an initative.

• Nurture Diversity & Resilience: Above all, nurturing diversity in resilience in our collaborative groups and communities contributes to the evolution and progression of this movement. It can, however, be personally uncomfortable. We want people to agree with us, to be right, validated, satisfied. If we want to nurture diversity, it also means allowing diverging perspectives, methods, and approaches. Because we live in such an individualistic culture, it can be often difficult to set aside the desire to control and apply ownership over something. But it’s worth practice, as the best kind of change happens collaboratively when grounded in community.

Of course, I don’t have the answers. I’m a total newb, a youngun’, beginning to walk the path and just helping how I can along the way. It’s not an easy path to walk—the obstacles can be unclear, the opposition formidable. Bu the more we can support one another and share knowledge, we grow all the more. Among us, there’s tremendous diversity as well as shared ground. The more we can share our stories and the lessons gleaned, the more we can develop a movement worth spreading!