a phoenix from the ashes
So, here we are. In real time, our entire culture spinning on it’s heel. Our neurons are paused, looking around at all the space, wondering where the path went. Which way to go? What’s possible? It feels like being in a completely foreign landscape, the safe way through unknown. Right? anybody else feeling neurologically displaced?
We can’t gather, except for the depressing trip to the store. We can’t see friends, and now, we can take walks on public land. That’s trickier for me than seeing other people (granted i live with 3 other people, two of which i would describe as well-behaved wild monsters), and I’ve been at a loss of where to walk, where to find the wild places that so fuel me. I liked the story that this virus was pushing us back to our two essentials: our own bodies and the earth’s body. For a minute there, everyone was talking about how much exercise they were getting, how many hikes, how much time spent out. when the regional and state parks all around me closed, that story went out the door (like all the others these days). The I had a dream:
I was walking in a burned area, and the light was so new it looked like it was hitting the ash for the first time. the ground was soft, yielding as i wandered aimlessly. there was nothing growing, except this big shiny bush. i walked up to it and realized it was a plant i know as being kinda spindly, leggy even, and certainly not much like this vibrant shrub.
hello, yerba santa, i said. pick me already!, it said.
when i woke, i looked into the indigenous practices around using yerba santa. kat harrison wrote this about the impacts of not harvesting this plant, and you probably already know that it requires a burn to stimulate abundant growth. and why care about yerba santa anyway? well, it’s my go to plant for respiratory illness - drains dampness out of the lungs, supports the body in resolving fevers, headaches, muscle soreness, and digestive upset. not to mention the anti-alzheimer effects being studied (thank you, eriodictyon, thank you indigenous wisdom). but also, it’s growing like a beast all over the recently burned hillsides!! If there’s been a fire near you in the past few years (and chances are there has), go out. go look. go walking and say hello. Make it a treasure hunt, embrace the unchartered territory. And if you do find yourself in front of a bush that says “pick me already!”, here’s the honorable harvest to practice. It dries out easily in a paper bag or laid out, and a few crushed up leaves in a cup of tea are sweet, aromatic, and deeply medicinal (we also add honey around here; a divine combo). it’s known in my house simply as “santa-tea”, holy tea. i wonder, what else does this plant support without us knowing? how to live after devastation? how to metabolize grief into grace?
I’m not suggesting this plant will cure us all from the coronavirus; this virus has it’s trajectory as well and is a serious threat to the vulnerable, marginalized, and underprivileged especially. That is not to be taken lightly. but taking a walk in a new place, without a known path, towards an ally that can teach us how to rise up out of these ashes - all of this may be a step towards integrating the new horizon we are all facing together, right now. It may be that we need to physically stand in the unknown to begin to orient in this difficult time. Let me know how it goes, and what wisdom you find.