First bit of herbal study, and a remedy
Studies have been going very well, for all the sick-kid-needing-extra-loving and anxious-hubby-overworking and me spending a lot of time on all three (kid, family and work are very intertwined these days)... But some major work projects are done, hallelujah. Before the next batch of deadlines starts oh, tomorrow!, I thought I'd catch up on my Herbal Home Study.
It's been quite nice to have this learning buzzing 'round my head whilst I'm tending to other needs. The Kingsolver book is most excellent... I've decided to approach reading it one month at a time, as she does in her writing, to find echoes of her growing seasons and experiences in my own life. It's amazing to me that she and her family were able to commit to this experiment-- to truly eat only what was in season locally-- and already it's got me rearranging how I think about food, about what I eat and how I relate to the plant world.
The cookbook has been nice in tandem with the Kingsolver book, especially in the realm of self-sufficiency. Making my own seitan and granola resulted in an incredibly satisfying day for me last week. And the house smelled fantastic.
It's all got to do with finding a new approach to life, it seems. Not the big, ambiguous "my life"-- though that's part of it, sure-- but the teeming, growing, groaning, easing, blossoming life that abounds everywhere, from dirt to plant to plate, stones to ravens (..crows?) and us and everything in-between.
I've set a new exercise for myself: each night, I pause in some random place in the house, just wherever I happen to be while I'm shutting off the lights for the night and happen to remember, "oh yeah, pause." And I stand and watch and listen, in the dark, finding new relationships to the spaces that I'm so busy in during much of the day that I've lost my ability to relate to them directly: the sense of the place, the spirit or energy in that place (the many levels that that implies), the memories of the day still bouncing around it, and the stillness that occupies it in that quieter moment.
I've gone a long time thinking that life is what I assume it to be. Methinks now is the time to return to knowing what it is-- in all of its fullness-- in a much more direct manner.
That is step one in this herbal study of mine long; before I look at a "formula" or plant a seed, it's time to foster my attention.
One lovely experiment in "herbal formula" did happen by chance this week, though. I mentioned Oisin is sick, very badly congested and coughing like a little fiend (a coughing fiend, that is). So I got to try out a very simple remedy: one part eucalyptus oil (1/4 tsp) to 4 parts olive oil (1 tsp)...mix well and rub between your fingers vigorously, til you feel a tingle...then apply in a circular, massaging motion to the child's chest and then back, while singing or humming a lullaby. The eucalyptus was wonderfully soothing to his chest muscles, and the scent helped open those poor nasal passages...and of course, there must be something said about mommy massaging and singing. There are so many multiple layers to healing, aren't there? It was healing for me, too, to help my child this way, and to feel a new connection with him. Very wonderful indeed.
It strikes me that I remember reading something in Mary Beith's book about the importance of "performance" in healing... the ritual of healing itself as important a tool as an herbal mixture, that is. I just don't think the rub would have been as effective without the lullaby, somehow. I wasn't just singing to him; I was singing to the entire situation. It feels like an important distinction.
So there is a "psychic" aspect (as in, a deepening of my relationship to place/person/thing), and a "physical" aspect (the actual act of applying a remedy, you might say)... But one more aspect needs attention, and that is the one that carries the most weight for me, and that is the aspect of relationship between me and the spirits/deithe. At the end of my "pause" at the end of the day, I've come to include a small prayer, or blessing, and a thanking. It's not much, but I guess it's also everything. My hope here is to foster gratitude and awareness, before I start asking The Big Questions...
To that end, my study of Beith's book has been put on hold while I read a "prerequisite": Alistair Moffat's Before Scotland: The Story of Scotland Before History. Scotland? It keeps popping up for me, I ought to rename this blog "Looking for Scotland" the way things seem to be going... but I love this book already, and I'm all but 97 pages in. I'm looking to understand more of the natural rhythms and history of where I come from before I start Assuming I Know Everything, and Alistair is covering all of it, not just from the point of view of "being Scottish", but the shared history of all of us who have a personal link to that area of the globe. We're just now entering the 4th millennium bc, Mr. Moffat & I, after looking into the archeology and clues of what culture maybe was just past the last ice age.
His point, and he returns to it often, is that "these people" were not some distant, idiotic buffoons; in fact they were our first parents. Imagine a life of honoring that first good go in a harsh landscape... How far back might I reach? And to whom do I give my thanks?
Oh, before I get all misty-eyed and forget, I want to post a link to a nice discussion on erynn999 's lj concerning herbs (...and footnotes). Nice resources here. Check it out!
It's been quite nice to have this learning buzzing 'round my head whilst I'm tending to other needs. The Kingsolver book is most excellent... I've decided to approach reading it one month at a time, as she does in her writing, to find echoes of her growing seasons and experiences in my own life. It's amazing to me that she and her family were able to commit to this experiment-- to truly eat only what was in season locally-- and already it's got me rearranging how I think about food, about what I eat and how I relate to the plant world.
The cookbook has been nice in tandem with the Kingsolver book, especially in the realm of self-sufficiency. Making my own seitan and granola resulted in an incredibly satisfying day for me last week. And the house smelled fantastic.
It's all got to do with finding a new approach to life, it seems. Not the big, ambiguous "my life"-- though that's part of it, sure-- but the teeming, growing, groaning, easing, blossoming life that abounds everywhere, from dirt to plant to plate, stones to ravens (..crows?) and us and everything in-between.
I've set a new exercise for myself: each night, I pause in some random place in the house, just wherever I happen to be while I'm shutting off the lights for the night and happen to remember, "oh yeah, pause." And I stand and watch and listen, in the dark, finding new relationships to the spaces that I'm so busy in during much of the day that I've lost my ability to relate to them directly: the sense of the place, the spirit or energy in that place (the many levels that that implies), the memories of the day still bouncing around it, and the stillness that occupies it in that quieter moment.
I've gone a long time thinking that life is what I assume it to be. Methinks now is the time to return to knowing what it is-- in all of its fullness-- in a much more direct manner.
That is step one in this herbal study of mine long; before I look at a "formula" or plant a seed, it's time to foster my attention.
One lovely experiment in "herbal formula" did happen by chance this week, though. I mentioned Oisin is sick, very badly congested and coughing like a little fiend (a coughing fiend, that is). So I got to try out a very simple remedy: one part eucalyptus oil (1/4 tsp) to 4 parts olive oil (1 tsp)...mix well and rub between your fingers vigorously, til you feel a tingle...then apply in a circular, massaging motion to the child's chest and then back, while singing or humming a lullaby. The eucalyptus was wonderfully soothing to his chest muscles, and the scent helped open those poor nasal passages...and of course, there must be something said about mommy massaging and singing. There are so many multiple layers to healing, aren't there? It was healing for me, too, to help my child this way, and to feel a new connection with him. Very wonderful indeed.
It strikes me that I remember reading something in Mary Beith's book about the importance of "performance" in healing... the ritual of healing itself as important a tool as an herbal mixture, that is. I just don't think the rub would have been as effective without the lullaby, somehow. I wasn't just singing to him; I was singing to the entire situation. It feels like an important distinction.
So there is a "psychic" aspect (as in, a deepening of my relationship to place/person/thing), and a "physical" aspect (the actual act of applying a remedy, you might say)... But one more aspect needs attention, and that is the one that carries the most weight for me, and that is the aspect of relationship between me and the spirits/deithe. At the end of my "pause" at the end of the day, I've come to include a small prayer, or blessing, and a thanking. It's not much, but I guess it's also everything. My hope here is to foster gratitude and awareness, before I start asking The Big Questions...
To that end, my study of Beith's book has been put on hold while I read a "prerequisite": Alistair Moffat's Before Scotland: The Story of Scotland Before History. Scotland? It keeps popping up for me, I ought to rename this blog "Looking for Scotland" the way things seem to be going... but I love this book already, and I'm all but 97 pages in. I'm looking to understand more of the natural rhythms and history of where I come from before I start Assuming I Know Everything, and Alistair is covering all of it, not just from the point of view of "being Scottish", but the shared history of all of us who have a personal link to that area of the globe. We're just now entering the 4th millennium bc, Mr. Moffat & I, after looking into the archeology and clues of what culture maybe was just past the last ice age.
His point, and he returns to it often, is that "these people" were not some distant, idiotic buffoons; in fact they were our first parents. Imagine a life of honoring that first good go in a harsh landscape... How far back might I reach? And to whom do I give my thanks?
Oh, before I get all misty-eyed and forget, I want to post a link to a nice discussion on erynn999 's lj concerning herbs (...and footnotes). Nice resources here. Check it out!