Making Things Better

One of my earliest memories involves being on holiday in Wales and falling off a climbing frame. I was with my grandad at the time, who (to my initial horror,) was about to do something that would change my life.

After checking I was fine, his eyes scanned the park for a particular leaf, which he picked, chewed to a pulp, and without any warning, applied to my bruised and bleeding knee. The crying soon stopped - as did the small trickle of blood slowly making its way down to my grubby socks.

I thought my grandad was magical.

The leaf in question was Plantago major, also known as Plantain or Ribwort.

Here in the UK, Ribwort is one of the first plants that children learn to identify. Being much closer to the ground than adults, they notice it because (like dandelions,) it grows through the pavement cracks they like to jump over.

I don’t say it out loud, but when people ask me why I wanted to become a herbalist, I often think of as this incident as the defining moment I knew what I was going to do with my life.

I wanted to make people feel better with medicines I knew how to find and make myself.

Many of my early memories are in some way connected to plants.

As a child of the 70’s, I know I’m not alone in making daisy chains and perfume from the roses that grew in my own (and my neighbour’s) gardens. I have a vivid memory of setting up a small stall at the bottom of our path selling eclectic wares like magic wands (made from a big willow tree at the end of our road,) and itching powder from seeds gathered from rosehips that grew in another nearby spot. No books* told me that dandelions weren’t poisonous, and I soon found out for myself which plants stung or made you itch if you messed about with them. Children are naturally drawn to nature. It bothers me that nowadays they grow up recognising company logos but are unable to identify a tree from the shape of its leaves.

*I’ve always liked writing. My first foray into writing books about flowers was at age 7. Here’s a picture.

As luck would have it, I grew into a very spotty teenager. I say that, because it was acne that made me once again turn to herbs. It was about this time that the Body Shop first hit the high street. I became obsessed with the idea that I could create my own skincare products from natural ingredients (it’s still a compulsion now.)

In an age before Google, the local bookshop was the only place I could hunt out information about plants for skincare. Although the pickings were thin on the ground, I did manage to find three books (which I still have on my bookshelf and still refer to today.)

They are:

·         A Modern Herbal by Mrs. M. Grieve

·         The Fragrant Pharmacy by Valerie Ann Worwood

·         Absolute Beauty by Pratima Raichur

Although most of my first creations were a disaster (one experiment involved applying a turmeric paste, which left on overnight, created a delightful yellow stain which refused to be removed,) nevertheless, I still felt empowered to be doing something to make me less reliant on the acid-like preparations on offer from the GP.

(I’ll skip the next bit. After failing to listen to my own inner intuition, I spent the next ten years working in a job which did nothing for my mental health or emotional wellbeing. To cut a long and boring story very short, I left that job and signed up for a course at the College of Naturopathic Medicine in London. The next five years were spent blissfully back on the herbal path, and immersed in the world of plant medicine.)

And here we are.

When people ask how I got into herbal medicine, I’m unable to offer a straight answer. A natural chain of events brought me to this point. I was always meant to become a herbalist, but as is often the case, modern life made me go the long way around.

Why I’m a herbalist is a much easier question to answer:

We forget at our peril that we are part of nature - not separate from it. Plants connect us to an ancient type of healing we instinctively know and recognise on some subliminal level. It goes way beyond treating symptoms, and addresses the very core of our being.

In a world where the future is uncertain, I feel a personal obligation to keep this hard-won knowledge alive, for the benefit of my family and future generations for whom self-sufficiency and self-reliance is (in all probability,) going to be absolutely essential to our survival.

The pure joy of knowing how to use plants to take care of yourself is nurturing on so many levels. I want everyone to have access to that simple knowledge.

I hope my story shows that plants can make you feel better, and that through this journal, you’ll be inspired to walk along with me and allow me to show you how.

Be well and thrive - Sarah