I marvel at the sliver of moon dancing in the dark sky; at the quiet clucking of the hens before they leave the roost; at Shadow, the free bunny, hopping beside me, nocturnal creature that she is! I wonder at the beauty and stillness that visits the earth just before the busyness light brings. I wonder what disturbances are set into motion when we humans push darkness away. What have people done through the ages to meet darkness? Who are the caretakers of the dark? How is it that we’ve come to be so afraid of what we cannot see but what we surely feel? People in some cultures used the dark time to remember. They gathered together in the long night of winter to sing, dance, and tell stories, to keep alive the deeds and tales of their ancestors and the worlds beyond sight so the children knew from whence they came and got a glimpse of where they may be headed. They gathered around fire to maintain the spark of life and shared stories to feed themselves as a people. The rooster crows and cracks the sky just enough for soft hues of blue and pink to seep silently over the horizon. There are many references to my ancestors’ use of herbs to dispel melancholy and gladden the heart in the herbal record. Today, the story is that the "patient," "client" has a disorder, SADS, a syndrome, to describe feelings tied to the light, but the story must have something analytically wrong with people rather than allowing for certain types of feelings to weave through life as the seasons and life change. Ignored often enough, these feelings become entrenched instead of fluid. Listen to the language; does either story evoke a different relationship to the life within you? Are we saddened by the change of light and/or the change of social connection? Do we miss the stories, the songs, the dances? Does the winter story of this culture feed us? Bond us? Carry us through the dark times to a future we belong to? Or does the story prefer drugs? Are we directed to the earth and nature for our medicine through our cultural story, or to the expert who has the authority to tell us what is wrong with us and what we need to take to fix it? What if what is wrong with us is truly right given the roles in the story we are asked to play and the environment in which the story takes place! If depression is an epidemic in a people, will a drug or an herb really heal the people? I don’t think so. What I know is that depression is seriously affecting people in my village. I’d like to offer some remedies to try before resorting to a prescribed substance that may only suppress the symptoms and not effect true healing. Write down nine things you love. Include three of them in your life each day. For example: 1) touching soft, furry animals; 2) hearing children sing; 3) dawn; 4) homemade food; 5) beautiful colors; 6) fresh air; 7) rest; 8) reading; 9) handwork, i.e. crochet, carving, knitting. Make room in each day to embrace three things you love and celebrate that you made room in your life for love. Write the script for the host of This Is Your Life to clarify what you want in life. Imagine that you are the host of This is Your Life. You are the person being honored. You are 100 years old! What have you done? How have you lived your life? What do people think of you? The host knows it all. She or he has talked to your friends, your family, peers, and colleagues. What did they say? Where do you live? Remember to include the type of people you spent most of your time with. Consider when you spent time with people who didn’t share your values or beliefs. What does the surrounding community and land look like because of your actions? Depression sneaks into us when we lose sight (vision) of a future that we want to participate in, that holds us safely and inclusively. If we don’t know where we’re going, how will we know when we get there? For the cost of a month’s supply of antidepressants, you can buy quite a few bulbs and have something to look forward to in less than 100 years! I’ve used this remedy for the last ten years. It is a pulse in the rhythm of my life. The earth at RavenCroft literally (as compared to virtually) explodes with bright colors every spring. There’s a cumulative effect; the color and cheer held in those spring flowers is a tonic that restores me, the visitors, and the neighborhood as well. It’s a celebration manifest! It is the darkness that holds those bulbs. Maybe the fairies and elves or the little people tickle them into bloom each spring. Something out there increases their numbers every year. They symbolize a seed of hope taken into every turn toward darkness. They teach us how nature heals by moving through stages of life and death in the grand dance of mystery. Have we improved our lot by shining the bright light of science on every aspect of life? Is it helpful to know how everything works in infinite detail if we lose sight of the big picture? Now that some of the groundwork may be loosened... The plant I have seen bring people the most immediate benefit is St. Joan’s wort. Yes, that’s right, St. Joan! Why not? They’re stories, right? If you wish to be the author-ity of your life, then you pick up a pen and craft a life for yourself! You people it with what brings you vigor and vitality. You create surroundings for your characters that you would like to live in and you begin the awesome job of bringing life to your life. I like to say "St. Joan" because she gave the divided people of her beloved land a vision that created France. She essentially brought hope to a despairing people, united them, and led them to a better future. It cost her plenty. Today many people have heard that St. John’s wort is an antidepressant, but few know that this herb, Hypericum perforatum, is useful to prevent burns. It can be used topically as an infused oil to prevent sunburn. Once minor burns have dissipated their heat, it is effectual in speeding healing and relieving pain. If I was going to ask for guidance in remedies for burns, I should hope St. Joan would be qualified to impart such wisdom. Recently, I jammed my toe on the leg of a chair and applied infused oil of St. Joan’s wort topically, not a burn but a great remedy for trauma to the surface! Within a few minutes, the pain left. This herb is worth getting to know; it is prolific in the Northwest, easily prepared, and can be used for many discomforts. And it’s pretty to boot! There are other plant allies to call on in times of sadness, melancholy, and loss of heart; lemon balm, motherwort, lavender, clary sage, rose geranium, and borage can all help. These can be used in a myriad of ways, since nature knows diversity is the key to stability. Teas, extracts, tinctures, infused oils, essential oils — all can help lift the spirit. But nothing works quite the same as befriending these plants and growing them in your home or garden, watching them move through their cycles and harvesting and preparing them for use in your cycles. The pileated woodpecker breaks the spell and calls me back to morning chores. It is a full, bright, crisp winter morning. The darkness faded in its own time, replaced by a new day and the loud hammering of that raucous neighbor of mine! The caretakers of the dark are comfortable in its gifts. Sit in the dark a spell each evening, and honor darkness. Now, light a candle in hope and honor the ever-returning light. When things seem really dark, remember: "We can’t extinguish a light we didn’t ignite." I pray that this is so for all living things. Blessed be. EagleSong, C.C.H., director of RavenCroft Garden in Monroe, WA, is a nationally recognized herbal educator. She is dedicated to keeping herbal wisdom within reach of all people and connected to the healing wisdom of nature. P.O. Box 229, Startup, WA 98293; (360) 794-2938; <ravencroft@earthlink.net>. |
The brisk morning air envelops me as I move toward the barn. I hesitate; the darkness has slipped up on me in this turning, and I wonder if I need to milk the goats or feed the chickens so early. I stand before turning to go back to the house. Again I pause. I take a moment to get comfortable in the cold darkness and laugh at myself. My laugh extends to the culture I have been raised in and realize how much we hate the dark and the cold. How afraid we are of it without even realizing what it is we’ve done to our world to prevent the dark and cold from touching us. I turn once more to the barn and resume my commitment to the morning chores.