English French German Italian Portuguese Russian Spanish

Learning to Listen, Giving Time to the Plants

Herbal Apprenticeship with the Sonoran Herbalist

Learning to Listen, Giving Time to the Plants

This Saturday, March 14th, begins John Slattery's Sonoran herbalist apprenticeship program. I'll be participating. Actually, I'm already participating, since I'm doing partial work trade. I'm so grateful to be spending time in an herbalist's office--that milieu, those aromas, working with other herb-minded folks.

The classes, two-to-four days a month for the next seven months, are often overnight camping trips. We're going to be introduced to many different zones of this bioregion, which is far more than just desert thanks to the mountain ranges. But balancing the wide geographical range, I know from having taken a couple classes with John already that we'll be directed, encouraged, urged, to look exquisitely closely at what grows right at our feet.

John's rigorous knowledge of the plants is impressive (of course I'm going to love a teacher who gives the Latin/Greek Linnaean names as well as the common names), but the flair with which he formulates his botanicals is born of something beyond the books.

When you approach his booth at the farmers' market (the Rillito Park market on Sunday morning or the Santa Cruz market on Thursday afternoon), from the brilliant magenta of the prickly pear lemonade sold by the cup to the mysterious dark of the bottled tinctures and salves, you'll be struck by the emphasis on plants that grow right here, which predominate in the formulations.pricklypearjuice-200

This means that not only are the formulations unique, no mere duplicates of generic herbal preparations you'll find at the store; they are also uniquely suited to this place and this time--good medicine for being(s) in this place and this time.

John teaches listening to the plants. He has students open themselves to the plant with all the senses. Open to the plant existing so beautifully in the ground, to the plant harvested and dried, to the plant's essence made into tincture. He leads people to experience the plant in this openhearted way, no wrong answers. 

As I continue opening to know my life purpose and recognize the "spelling" commonality of words and herbs and my calling to be an interpreter/translator of language and plants, the word that keeps recurring is "listen." As a little kid playing with herbs in the yard, I listened to the plants. At my most disconnected, taking powdered uva ursi in capsules as a diuretic, I really wasn't using the herb any differently than a drug.

"Here, uva ursi. Diuretic" is just a pill for an ill approach. When I harvested my own uva ursi, aka kinnickinnick, in Alaska, and spent time with the plant itself, I recognized the potency of its medicine and that it didn't match me very well, and if I needed to move water through I went to nettles from my yard.

Standing in the yard at John's office with five other ladies at the Herb of the Month class (which he offers every, well, month), I got to encounter, bow to, honor, listen to a single calendula flower. To share observations with the other participants on its color, its shape, its energetics, how it spoke to us.

Simply paying that level of respect and attention is grounding and healing all by itself, and it opens receptivity to the power of the plant in a way that attending to the abstract freeze-dried capsules never could.

And so, when we each took a few drops of calendula tincture under the tongue, it was sacramental. I had (coincidentally?) been craving something yellow and bitter for a few days, and neither chamomile nor mustard were cutting it (ha!). On the day of that class, I was being troubled and frankly terrified by some visions and entities, was feeling pushed around and ungrounded. 

Under the tongue is a root, and a route that bypasses the bloodstream for absorption. In went the calendula and put that root in the ground for me. Empowered by the experience in that class, as well as the more right-brained information with which John supplemented it, I've been able to continue working with calendula since then.

I've tended to be very enthusiastic and vocal as a student or group participant, quick to offer interpretations and ideas, loaded with questions. Obviously, that affect and  attitude will not be appropriate in this context. Even when we're in the office making medicine from harvested plant materials, we're still listening to the plants, with reverence and respect.

How harmonious, then, to be embarking on an apprenticeship that prizes listening, at a time when I'm otherwise being guided to move more deeply into listening. How challenging, though, to show up for class as a different kind of student than I've always been , with old habits pulling at me. I'm already contending with voices beating up on me for falling back into the old vociferous enthusiast, and we haven't even started! 

Maybe I will speak out of turn or talk too much/too enthusiastically. And maybe that's part of starting at (a) in order to get to (b). Frankly, I'm excited to get to shut up and listen to the plants in the collective energy of a group under the guidance of a master of that space.

More than another course or program, I anticipate--eagerly anticipate--that this will be a massive training in mindfulness.

And this was part 1, the "mindfulness" portion, of this week's three-part "spell."

* photo source: Desert Tortoise Botanicals, used with permission.

About the Author

Ela Harrison

Ela is a wordsmith and herb lover who has lived in many places and currently resides in Tucson, AZ.

Comments (2)

  • pj

    pj

    12 March 2015 at 00:23 | #

    Wow, Ela, that sounds wonderful.

    reply

    • Ela

      Ela

      24 March 2015 at 20:04 | #

      Yes, I feel so honored and privileged to be able to do this. I'm also honoring myself for having created the space in my life to do it. (I have to keep continuing to create it!)

      reply

Leave a comment

You are commenting as guest.

FREE Newsletter

Upcoming Events

No events