On breaking unwritten rules

Happy Moonday.  Its a waning gibbous-- three weeks give or take before May's full flower moon and an excellent time for spring cleaning and the release of worn-out habits before the new moon.

I've never been one to obey a rule or code if it strikes me as nonsensical or unfair.  One that I simply can't abide is the unwritten rule that a woman should not be alone in city parks after dark.  If 'bad things' happen, well, what was she thinking?  As an intrepid city herbalist I find myself alone at night in city parks with some frequency.  I do usually bring my dogs.

Sunset.  I'm on my hands and knees on the ground in Prospect Park, Brooklyn, gathering a wild, abundant medicinal plant called cleavers, Galium aparine.   I'm determined to gather enough to make a quart of tincture (a lot) because this is the lushest, largest patch of cleavers I've ever seen, and its a plant that I need for my own healing.  I've been searching the park for  hours, and have finally found it.  But its getting late. The sun goes down.

When I make herbal medicine I thank every plant as I harvest, and I chant or sing as I go.  On this, the first almost warm spring night, I'm chanting Ya-Hadi, a Sufi chant, ya (invocation) Hadi (the Guide or Guidance).

Even though its a dark moon and I'm harvesting by thin orange lamp light, I can make out the cleavers easily by their distinctive shape like successive Doctor Seuss umbrellas on a chain and the way they cleave to my fingers, as their name implies. Their stalks are rough like cat tongues.

I've long known about cleavers' reputation for soothing swollen lymph, and have taken it for this myself, but beyond that our relationship has been somewhat superficial until now.

As I'm harvesting, I'm intently 'listening' for what the plant has to say about itself.  It gives itself up so easily.  I feel that this is an excellent herb both for physical and emotional flexibility.  (Its used to treat arthritis, as it turns out.)

I've almost gathered enough when the tall dead mugwort stalks I'm sitting under start to snap and I turn  to see a large man looming over me.  I let out the deep growling warrior's bellow my father taught me.  The man jumps back.

He is not a threat, at least not to me in this moment.

I say, 'I'm sorry I shouted, but you know, you startled me.'

He replies, 'That scream... I know you are a macho girl.  You have machisimo.

'Yes,' I reply.

'You are very lonely?' he asks.

Its important that the plants have good energy around them at all times when I'm gathering and making medicine, so after letting him know that no, I'm not lonely, not at all, I tell him what I'm doing, show him the cleavers, and explain some of their medicine.

'It give me energy?' I say it will.  'Delicious?' I tell him no.  Its bitter.  Good for the liver, like all bitter herbs.  He tries it anyway, and says nothing.

I turn away from him and continue to chant and gather.  He stands and watches me.

After about ten minutes I've gathered enough.  Earlier I had collected a small bag of silvery green spring mugwort tops for tea and wild dandelion greens for salad.  I can't find the brown paper bag in the dark.  I ask if the man will help me to look for it.   We find the bag. I thank him and say goodbye.

'Be safe!' he says.

'You too!' I reply. 

Cleavers definitely helps increase emotional flexibility.   (And next time I'll bring my dogs.  I'm happy to talk to curious onlookers, but don't want them sneaking up on me when I'm deep in a plant conversation.)

What is an 'unwritten rule' you sometimes (or often) break?

As its Moonday, I'd also love it if you would post poems or art of any kind in the comments.

a plant for peaceful warrior women and wise men

This week's Moonday Post...

These last few days have felt like spring in Manhattan with brilliant blue skies and a carnival atmosphere on the streets of the East Village.

Yesterday I walked by children carrying bunches of cut daffodils and people dancing to jazz music in Tompkins Square Park.

I was on my way to a friend's house with my dogs, weighed down by bags of produce from the green market, when a man passed me a little too closely and shouted some rape-y comments.  Really violent things.

That almost never happens to me.  I have a pretty good force field, but it was down.  I wasn't prepared after a winter of automatic shielding by the cold and layers of warm clothes.

What popped into my head was the chant we all learned in elementary school, 'I'm rubber and your glue whatever you say bounces off me and sticks onto you', which I muttered as I passed.

I'm blessed to know lots of men who actively discourage cat calling.  I'm grateful too to all of the parents and teachers who work had to bring up boys with respect for women (such as my mother in law).  But the most instantaneous way I've found to discourage cat calling is to change my posture, my attitude, my vibe.  I don't allow it into my space.

Today I'm off to the park to restrengthen that force field.    I want to see if artemisia vulgaris, mugwort, is popping her head up yet.  Artemisia has the namesake of Artemis, Goddess of the hunt, the moon, protector of animals, the young, and the wilderness.   Like the goddess Artemis, Artemisia vulgaris is a moon plant.  The backside of the leaves are silver, like moonlight.

The plant artemisia is very subtly psychotropic (mind-altering) when ingested or burned as smudge.  It can enhance the vividness and recall of dreams, strengthen intuition, and deepen a person's relationship to nature.  It grows all over the world in various forms.

This plant has helped me to gain a sense of independence and inner strength.  I've enlisted its (her) wisdom to help others also come to trust their own intuitions, their 'gut' feelings.  

Its a plant par excellence for wild, fearless women and men, and I'd go so far as to say that its a remedy for cat calling.  Artemisia brings out the peaceful warrior in women and the wise woman in men.

There is a fierceness about the plant that has nothing to do with aggression. Artemisia helps us to stand tall with our shoulders back while moving with precision, grace, and a steady gaze, effortlessly discerning when we can relax, and when we need to be alert.

Right now I'm imagining Mr. Rapey-Comments sitting in the park somewhere with a large clump of mugwort.  He finds himself drifting off.  He starts to dream.

In the dream he comes across Artemis.  He was watching her bathe. She looks at him.  He thinks, 'oh shit',  his brain tunes into the collective unconscious and he remembers the part of the myth where Artemis turns a dude into a stag who is torn apart by dogs.  Only this time she transforms him into a woman in Manhattan in the spring.

There are lots of men out whistling, shouting, and hooting at women on the street.   He, now a woman, comes across himself as a man.  He hears his male self speak violating, ugly words.  They reverberate inside his female body.

He opens his eyes, changed.  He has heard his words as a form of self-hatred, and with this knowledge he begins, slowly, to heal.

Do you have a good cat calling story?  Some time when you were able to shift the energy? 

Wishing you a wild, happy Moonday.

Herbal footnotes:

There's lots of fantastic info on the medicinal uses of artemesia vulgaris.  Here are some links to great sources:  Susan Weed,

Henriette's Herbal (a compedium of excellent articles)

When its very young, artemisia is a light mint green and tastes pleasantly bitter.  Its used a lot in cooking and medicine in Asia.  In acupuncture its burned as moxa.  Like all bitters, its excellent for the liver and digestion, and so is a potent addition to the diet this time of year when our livers are all craving some t.l.c. after the winter.

Pregnant women should avoid it internally, though they can still benefit from its dream and intuition powers by sleeping with it in dream pillow or hanging out with the plant in the park.  

Artemisia is everywhere, so once you know what it looks like, you'll always have a friend around.

Aphrodisiacs are the Drag Queens of the Plant World

I'm preparing for the herbal class I'm teaching on Sunday on aphrodisiacs. My hands are smeared with raw honey, raw cocoa powder, rose powder, cayenne, cinnamon, and maca*.  I'm making homemade aphrodisiac infused honey, for spreading on a buttery croissant or....

I started out a bit grumpy.  I have a lot to do.  I have to make an outline for the class so I don't ramble too much, even though I like rambling. I like chatting about medicinal plants like they're people.  I am excited when scientists come back with findings that support the ways people have been working with them for generations.  But science isn't what generally attracts people to aphrodisiacs.  I need to bring out their fun side, without rambling.

I was wondering how I was going to do that, until I tasted my fingers.  All of a sudden I was happy.  Laughing.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  I looked hot.  My lights were on.  Yum.

Aphrodisiacs do have a 'serious' side, in the fact that most of them are also strengthening to the heart, reproductive, and/or nervous systems, many if not all are anti-depressive, and in general they make people feel happy, even giddy, which is very creatively freeing.  They aren't "just" about sex.

What makes me happiest about aphrodisiac plants is that they prove a theory I've always had, something I've always felt.  I wrote poems about it when I was sixteen, railing against, in my sixteen-year-old lingo, 'the priests and the pimps.'   Sexual love is heart opening, expansive, joy bringing, juicy pleasure.  Aphrodisiac plants are living poems to life force.  They support the idea that life is pleasurable.  What a simple, and yet somehow still radical thought.

Rupaul was on WNYC today, on the Leonard Lopate Show, promoting his new book called Workin It: Rupaul's Guide to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Style.  The interview sounded caned, but nevertheless I'm excited to check out the book.  Besides trying to get Leonard to say that he remembered the hookers on 28th Street from the '70s, Rupaul said some interesting things.  One, that we are all born naked and everything else is drag, meaning that we're all wearing a costume.  And two, that Drag Queens in every culture teach us not to take life so seriously.  I believe that drag is a sacred practice.  Drag Queens and Kings are like aphrodisiacs.  They encourage the rest of us (if we're open to them) to feel libidinous, empowered, and playful. 

I like to work hard at the things I love.  I'm often up late writing.  I push myself, sometimes to the point of exhaustion.  Sometimes a well-meaning someone will say, 'lighten up.  Have some fun.  You're working too hard.'  And I'm annoyed.  This advice just points out that I'm rigid, stuck, without giving me a way to get unstuck.  Aphrodisiac plants, like an amazing drag show, do the lightening up for me. They get me to laugh, to open my heart, to feel a little naughty, a little loose, a little more free.  They turn on my lights and make me feel like workin it.

Kate's Ooh la la honey 2010 
(The possibilities are endless.  Use this as a guide and play with your own recipe.)

Raw Honey

Ground rose petals (about 1 part)

Ground Maca* (about 4 parts)

Raw Cocoa powder (about 3 1/2 parts)

Cinnamon Powder (1/4 part)

Cayenne Powder (pinch...to taste. )

*Maca is a supreme aphrodisiac for both men and women.  Its actually a type of dried, ground turnip.  Its also helpful for dealing with stress.  Its fertility enhancing, so be careful if that's not what you want. Its a warming herb, helping the people to deal with the cold in the high Andes mountains of Peru.  If you are someone who is prone to be 'hot'-- you have occasional acne outbreaks, anger easily, etc. , this might not be a great choice on a super regular basis, but I'm one of those types, and find that very occasionally having maca for its aphrodisiac purposes is fine, the way that eating a turnip is fine.  Dried and powdered it tastes a little like pancake batter, and can be substituted for flour and mixed into pancakes.

On a plate, preferably with a lip, mix the powders.  Power the roses with a mortar and pestal.  If you don't have one, you can improvise with a mug and your fingers.  Typically dried rose petals powder fairly easily.  Make sure that you use petals that are meant for internal use, organic if possible.  Commercial fresh roses are covered in toxic chemicals, sadly. 

The measurements are very approximate.  Experiment to taste.   Spoon out a small dollop (about a nickel size) of the honey.  Roll into the powders, forming a ball in your hands.  It will be fairly sticky at first.  The powders will seep into the honey. After the powders have seeped in, roll it in the powders again.  They will seep in more.  Roll them gently one last time, then place in a clean dry jar. Continue to do this until you have filled the jar with powder-infused honey.   (You will see that more has seeped into the honey after time). Put the jar in the oven with the pilot light or another warm location overnight so that the honey and powders fully meld together.  The longer you wait, the more it will infuse, but you can use it right away if the mood strikes you.

You can find the ingredients at your local herb shop.  In NYC that's Flower Power Herbs and Roots on East 9th St., or if you don't have a local shop, here's a link to a good quality mail order place that carries all of these ingredients.

How to Kick Fear's Ass...Lovingly

Things are intense right now.  I've been experiencing grief and joy, excitement and fear.  Life is always like this, its just that the intensity has been cranked up a few more notches lately. I have a long list of recent and ongoing personal crises, along with exciting but overstimulating triumphs.   I could write at least a five pages of the things I want/need to do yesterday and next week, and the laundry is rising like a prehistoric monster out of the bin.  More house guests pile in arrive tomorrow, and.... breathing in.... and out.

Last night I got out my big guns.

After a Dancemeditation practice, I took an herbal bath.  Oh happy day.  Of everything I've tried, this was the most fabulously successful method of making me relax.  I went in with a feeling of contraction.  Life is a razor's edge we have to navigate.  I came out feeling expanded.  Laughingly I thought to myself, 'Love kicks fear's ass.'

As an herbalist, I often tell clients about the healing power of herbal baths.  They work because our skin easily absorbs the water soluble properties in the plants, and they work because they're a conscious way for us to take care of ourselves.  Its hard to be very distracted in the bath.   This time I chose two plants that are excellent for both the skin and the nervous system: oatstraw and linden flower. 

I eased myself into the experience.  First I simply sat in the bath, sans herbal infusion, reading a bit of Pema Chodron's extremely comforting When Things Fall Apart:  Heart Advice for Difficult Times. 

When I felt calm enough--- meaning, ready to be with myself without any distraction--, I put down the book, poured in the herbal infusion, lit a candle, and turned out the light.  I soaked in the water for over half an hour.

I felt an almost instant surge of happiness as the linden and oatstraw infused water slid like velvet over my body.  Linden's bright yellow, honey bee attracting flowers help us to get in touch with our laughing, childhood selves.  Really.  Its amazing stuff.  Oatstraw is like a gorgeous, Meryl Streap type older woman who knows exactly what to say to make us feel better.

I let my thoughts wander for some time, while gently reminding myself to stay in the present, and found that the longer I soaked the easier this became.  Eventually I was able to focus on my breath entirely.

Now of course you may think that my mood shift happened by simply being in the bath with a candle, and having some meditation experience.  Just plain old water may have done the trick.  But plain old, wonderful water and conscious breathing, combined with the heart strengthening delight and sense of well being that linden engenders, and the cooling, soothing calm that oatstraw evokes felt nothing short of miraculous.

How I do it:  About 4-8 hours before I want to take the bath, I get out a half gallon mason jar. (If I only had 1 hour, I'd do it the same way.  It will still be good.  It would also work in a pot with a tight fitting lid, or a large french press, though a mason jar works best.)


I put about 3/4ths cup of each herb in the bottom of the jar.

Then I fill the jar with boiling water, letting the water absorb into the herbs for a minute or two.  

I top the full jar off with more boiling water so that there is no air between the jar and lid.

Then I seal the jar, and let it stand on the counter ideally for 4-8 hours, and at least 1 hour.

Just before the bath I carefully strain and squeeze the herbs by hand over a pot with a strainer.

Then I rinse out the jar, and pour the strained liquid back in.  This is your herbal infusion,  (If you are going to leave it for any length of time, put the lid back on, too.  The strained herbal material can't be used again, but it makes great compost. )  The 'work' to make an infusion from start to finish is about 10 minutes.  5 minutes on each end.

I get the bath to the exact perfect temperature, and then I pour the herbal infusion into it.  As last night I wanted to take a hot, detoxifying bath, I brought a pitcher of water and a glass with me, and because I love linden and oatstraw tea so much, I also reserved a cup of it to drink.

Linden and oatstraw are both moisturizing and incredibly nourishing to the skin.  Today my previously dry winter skin and hair feel soft and supple, and my heart is once again open to all of the beauty and terror that life has to offer.  I feel strengthened, nourished, and blessed. 

You may be able to find linden and oatstraw in your friendly neighborhood herb shop.  In Manhattan they can always be found at  Flower Power Herbs and Roots on East 9th St., or you can find them at a large selection of online resources.  You can find sources I recommend here.

*YouTwitFace is a Conan O'Brien invention