Wild Medicine Part Two

Lion's Mane mushroom (Hericium erinaceus) is a fabulous medicinal as well as a tasty edible.  It grows on dying or dead oak, walnut, beech, maple, sycamore and other broad-leaf trees, usually on logs or stumps.  It's easy to identify and has no poisonous look-alikes, but there are a few other closely related species.  Coral mushrooms have small white branches growing upward instead of shaggy hairs that hang down.  They are also edible and possibly medicinal, but the one most studied is Hericium erinaceus.

It has some very unique healing properties.  In Traditional Chinese Medicine, this mushroom has been used for stomach ailments and for the prevention of cancer in the GI tract.  It improves immune function and is anti-microbial.  But perhaps the most exciting property of lion's mane is its ability to stimulate regrowth of neurons, making it of great significance for the treatment of Alzheimer's, senility, neurological trauma, cognitive issues and possibly muscle/motor response issues.

Hunt for lion's mane in the fall after a few good rains.  Hard freezes will turn the mushrooms brown and bitter, so try to collect them before the weather gets too cold.  The specimen shown below is a younger one and hasn't yet formed long, shaggy filaments, but I picked it because I was afraid if I waited, it might get eaten by animals or be spoiled by the elements.

Lion's mane can be eaten fresh, sauteed in butter or simmered in soup.  It can be sliced and dried in a food dehydrator, or made into a tincture for medicine.  Tincturing mushrooms is a little more complex than making a simple herb tincture.  Most mushrooms need what is called a dual extraction to capture all the medicinal components, some of which are water soluble, others soluble only in alcohol.  The process takes time, but yields potent medicine that will keep for years.

Here is the process:

After you have harvested the mushrooms, remove any bits of dirt as well as you can.  Don't worry if you don't get them all, a little dirt won't hurt anything, and will be strained out later.  Don't wash the mushrooms -  they're too fragile and will soak up water like a sponge.  Weigh the mushrooms with a kitchen scale.  The ratio of mushroom to alcohol when using fresh mushrooms is 1:2, which means if you have 10 ounces of mushrooms by weight, you will need 20 ounces by volume of alcohol.  I use Everclear, which is 90% alcohol.  This allows for dilution by the water content of the mushrooms (they naturally hold a lot of water!) and the water you will be adding later in the process.

Break up the mushrooms and put them in a blender or food processor with the alcohol and blend them up.  Transfer to a clean glass jar with a lid and let steep for one month, shaking daily if you remember.  Don't forget to label the jar with the contents and date, so you know when it's finished.

After a month, strain out the solids with a thin tea towel or several thicknesses of cheese cloth.  Squeeze out as much alcohol as you can.  Measure the amount of tincture you have and write it down.  Put it in a clean jar, and transfer the solids you've strained out into a pot with enough water to cover plus some extra to allow for evaporation.  Stir it up to break up the mushroom pulp.  Simmer, covered, for two hours or longer, keeping a close eye on the pot and adding water if necessary so it doesn't dry out and burn.  Some people cook it in a crock pot and leave it on all night.  You are aiming to have about 1 part water to 3 parts alcohol, so if you have 20 ounces of alcohol tincture, at the end of simmering you will want approximately 6 1/2 ounces of water.

It will look like apple sauce.  This batch I am making yielded 4 cups of alcohol tincture, so I needed about 1 1/3 cups liquid mushroom extract.  I had to simmer it several hours uncovered to reduce the liquid, as I started with 4 cups to make sure it wouldn't burn.

After two hours or more of simmering, let the contents of the pot cool, then strain and discard the solids.  It takes a lot of squeezing to get all the liquid out!  You will end up with a lovely syrupy liquid full of potent polysaccharides and some rubbery mushroom solids.

Measure the amount of liquid from the pot.  If it's much less than 1/3 the amount of alcohol, add a little water.  If it's much over 1/3 the amount of alcohol, let it simmer a little longer with the lid off.  The final alcohol content is supposed to be 30 - 35%.  It doesn't hurt to have higher alcohol, but the water soluble polysaccharides will precipitate out, so you just have to remember to shake the bottle before using.

Mix the water and alcohol together, then label and store your tincture in dark bottles in a cool cupboard.

Dr. Stephen Harrod Buhner, one of the western world's most skilled herbalists, recommends lion's mane tincture for encephalitis, respiratory illnesses, cognitive impairment, nerve damage, depression and anxiety at a dose of 1/4 to 1/2 tsp. 3-6 times daily, depending on the severity of the condition.

One last thing:  preparing medicine is sacred work.  Do it on a day when you are feeling well and have no other distractions so you can devote your whole attention to the task at hand.  The alchemists of old went through rigorous purification processes before entering their still rooms.  Too often we forget or don't realize the profound effects our energy, mood and state of mind can have on our work.  Reverence and devotion can make the difference between a mediocre medicine and a great one. 

   

 

Wild Medicine

 

Covid-19 has caused a massive shift in the way we live and think and behave.  Like most crises, it has brought out the best and worst in human behavior.  We all long for the virus to run its course and disappear.  But like it or not, some of the changes it has brought will be permanent: lives and jobs lost, lingering health effects, families broken apart not only by the illness itself but by vehement, sometimes violent disagreements over how the pandemic should be handled, and even whether there is such a thing as a virus.

The vaccine may (or may not) shorten the duration of this pandemic, but it won't prevent another from happening.  Inevitably, there will be new diseases to challenge us.  Day by day the world grows more populated, the environment more damaged.  Clean water and air, food and fuel are becoming increasingly scarce and we will need to work harder to stay healthy.  

It's easy to feel overwhelmed facing the problems of this modern world, but we all can and must find ways to improve life on earth for ourselves and for future generations.  Challenges always bring opportunities for growth, and Covid 19 is no exception.  How can we use the current crisis to strengthen ourselves against future pandemics?  Is relying solely on vaccines the only alternative?

Maybe a starting point for change would be to alter our views and perspectives.  Maybe we should try viewing the pandemic as an effect rather than a cause.  Whether Covid started in a lab or a bat or a honey badger, many other factors contributed to its spread and deadliness.  International travel is a big one.  Keeping animals in tightly confined, overcrowded conditions is another.  But perhaps the greatest factor is our modern lifestyle.  Many marvelous inventions have made our lives easier.  The payoff, however, is less physical activity, less time spent in nature (the source of all healing) and more pollution, weakening our immune systems, making us prone to disease. 

Connecting in deeper ways with nature is one way to foster health on all levels - physical, mental, emotional.  This can be as simple as sitting in a chair in the sun with your bare feet on the earth.  Sunlight is a vital nutrient our bodies need to be healthy, as much as food and drink.  Placing bare skin on the soil connects us with the Earth's natural electric charge, which stabilizes the body, reduces inflammation, pain and stress, improves blood flow, energy, mood and sleep, and bolsters the immune system.

In winter when sunlight is scarce and it's too cold for sunbathing, sitting near an infrared light for a short time each day is the next best thing.  Countless studies have shown that infrared light can be of tremendous help with chronic illnesses.

Making and using natural medicines is a profound way to deepen our faith and trust in Mother Earth's infinite healing power.  Growing a pot of mint on the patio to make tea could be a first step on an exciting journey.  Our backyards, nearby fields and forests are brimming with medicinal plants.  Learning how to properly harvest, process and use plant medicines, and gaining confidence in their ability to heal is incredibly impowering.  The worry, fear and helplessness one can feel in the face of a serious illness or pandemic is debilitating in itself.  But if we have an arsenal of effective, safe, natural remedies in our medicine chest made with our own hands, and if we understand how they work, and why, the worry and fear can dramatically lessen.

This fall I harvested two types of medicinal mushrooms from our own woods.  Both kinds are easy to identify, have no poisonous look-alikes and have potent healing properties.

Turkey tail (Trametes versicolor) is a very common species that is plentiful throughout North America.

It grows on dead or dying hardwood trees, stumps and fallen logs and can be harvested year 'round.  Our stacks of firewood blossomed with it during the fall rains this year.  Tough and leathery, it's not suitable for eating, but makes a medicinal tea which inhibits cancer cells, strengthens the immune system and contains antiviral and antifungal properties.  It also contains polysaccharides that nourish beneficial bacteria in the gut.  

There are several other mushrooms that look similar to turkey tail, all non-poisonous, and easy to tell apart with a little practice.

Here is a six step process used for identifying turkey tail:

1. The top of the mushroom has a velvety feel, and tiny fuzz is visible with a magnifying glass.  If no velvet, it's not true turkey tail.

2. The caps show starkly contrasting rings of color which are shades of grey, blue-grey, brown, red-brown and paler tan or white.  Older mushrooms may develop green algae on the top.  I avoid these, as they're past their prime and may not make good medicine.  

3. Cap color is not pale, like the species shown below:

4. Turkey tail has tiny pores on the underside, barely visible to the naked eye but clearly seen with the magnifying glass. 

5. There is another similar mushroom with pores which are larger.  This is the trickiest part of the identification, but again, by studying them side by side you will be able to tell the difference.

 

The mushrooms on the right are turkey tails.  The bottom two specimens show the underside, which is white, cream or light grey in older specimens.  These pictures don't show the pores very well, but compared to the mushrooms on the bottom left, you can see the difference - the ones on the left are darker with larger pores, and the caps (seen at top left, are pale with barely visible rings of color.

Here is another look-alike, but easy to distinguish from true turkey tail by the gills underneath:

6. Turkey tail is thin and flexible, easily bent. 

Below are a few more turkey tail look-alikes.  The specimens on the left do have small pores on the underside, but are thick and unbendable.  The ones on the right have rings of color and are thin and flexible, but are very smooth on the bottom with no pores, hence, not turkey tail.

 

 

If you are lucky enough to have woods nearby, or even a woodlot in the backyard, I encourage you to start noticing the mushrooms growing there.  It's almost certain that some of them will be turkey tail.  Even if you don't use them, you can at least learn to identify them, and know that potent medicine is growing nearby.

When you feel confident enough to harvest some, carefully pluck them off the wood and dry them for a few days in a warm, airy spot.  Before putting them away in glass jars in a dark, cool spot, you can examine them, removing bits of grass or debris and cutting off any bark clinging to the base.

Here is a recipe for turkey tail tea, which can be taken daily.

5 cups water

2 Tbs. ground turkey tail (the finer you can grind them, the better; a coffee grinder works well).  Or just chop or cut them into small pieces.

Optional: turkey tail has a fairly strong, mushroomy taste, so if you're not a mushroom fan, you can add spices which will make the tea taste delicious as well as add extra medicinal benefits.  I like

a few cloves, 1/2 tsp. each of fennel seeds, coriander and caraway, and a piece of cinnamon stick.

Put everything in a pan, bring to a boil, then turn down the heat and simmer gently, covered, for one hour.  Turkey tail needs a long cooking time to extract the valuable polysaccharides.  Strain out the solids, and if the total volume is much less than a quart, you can add some water to dilute it.  Stronger tea is fine to drink if you like it that way, and you can use more turkey tail if you want.  This is a very nutritious tea, almost a meal in itself.  It will keep well in the fridge for several days.

Here is a link to a very good article on identifying turkey tail with excellent pictures if you're interested in further study: https://practicalselfreliance.com/turkey-tail-mushroom/

Tomorrow I'll share information on another very valuable medicinal mushroom, so stay tuned!

Move Over, Romaine!

 

Lettuce doesn't usually come to mind when thinking of nutritious foods, but some varieties are actually a good source of folate, vitamin C, A, and K, with decent amounts of minerals, antioxidants and fiber.  That said, we are not talking about the pale iceberg lettuce so plentiful in supermarkets, which is lowest on the lettuce totem pole of nutrients.

Romaine is usually listed as the most nutritious variety, but this is not always the case.  For one thing, the lines separating lettuce varieties are growing more and more murky.  Modern lettuce breeders have produced hundreds of new varieties.  There are romaines crossed with leaf lettuces, with butterheads and crisp heads.  There are red romaines, speckled and splotched romaines and varieties in every shade of green.  Some have open heads, some form tightly closed domes.  When lettuce leaves curve inward and form a solid head, less sunlight reaches the center.  Light produces pigment and chlorophyll, which is where the nutrients are.  So those pale, crunchy, mild tasting hearts of romaine, delicious as they are, are not as nutritious as an open headed leaf lettuce, which remains deeply colored to the base because it receives more light.  The pay off is that leaf lettuces get bitter faster, as bitterness is a response to increased light, heat and the maturation process.  Keeping lettuce well watered and picking it promptly helps avoid this.

I have been growing some of the romaine/leaf crosses, which have more open heads and deep color along with those wonderful crunchy ribs.  I also like growing red lettuces.  Not only are they fabulous to look at, they contain potent antioxidants called anthocyanins which help protect against cancer.

But my top pick for flavor, nutrients, heartiness and productivity is an ancient form of lettuce from China called celtuce.  Unlike other lettuces, celtuce is grown for its stalk as well as the leaves.

There are a number of varieties, my favorite being Red Mountain Celtuce.

Red Mountain Celtuce seeds are available from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds

It has the deepest green color blushed with red, gets quite large and has a very unusual flavor, unlike any other lettuce.  I like to steam or simmer the leaves just slightly, till they wilt. They turn as deep a green as spinach, and the water they're cooked in makes a lovely, dark red broth.  The stalks are wonderful peeled and sliced in salads, steamed or stir fried with other vegetables.  They can be spiralized to make green noodles, but cook them only briefly, else they will loose their crispness.

Celtuce stalks have more fiber and folate than leaf lettuces, and almost twice the amount of vitamin C. 100 grams contains 3,500 IU vitamin A, or 117% of the daily requirement.  It's also higher in potassium and manganese.

Another form of celtuce which does very well in hot weather is called sword leaf.  It's paler green and grows to an enormous size.  The leaves are tender and buttery.

Sword leaf lettuce seeds are available from Southern Exposure and Kitazawa Seeds.

I also grow head lettuces. Nothing beats the tender crunch of well grown crisp heads.  They may not be the most nutritious variety, but after all, variety is the spice of life!

End of Season Salad Extravaganza

 

Every day I like to go out and forage for my lunch salad.  Today I made an extra special salad because we're due for a big freeze tonight and the wild greens and herbs won't be so plentiful.  I picked dandelion leaves and blossoms, plantain, chickweed, lime balm, salad burnet, marshmallow leaves and rosemary, and one lovely clover blossom I found blooming in the garden.  Then I added sunflower sprouts, pak choi, arugula, cucumber, fermented Mexican gherkins and cranberries and olives.  The dandelion greens, plantain and marshmallow I steeped in boiling water a few minutes with garlic and rosemary.  Then I drained them and added to the salad, drinking the liquid as a nutritious tonic.  For dressing I like black pepper, a dollop of mayonnaise and plenty of mustard.  It was an adventure in tastes!

 

 

Goblin Song

 

Down along the river by the shady old slough

There's a hole in the ground where the water runs through.

It rushes down, down, like sand through a sieve

And it trickles through the cave 

Where the goblins live.

On a moonlight night there's an awesome sound

When the goblins creep and crawl

from their hole in the ground.

They stomp and they snarl, They hiss and they boo,

And they dance around the hole Where the water runs through.

Dance, dance, by threes and by twos,

You crusty old goblins in your pointy little shoes.

Dance, dance, till the sky turns blue,

And then tumble down the hole 

Where the water runs through.

So you'd better be careful if you're walking by the slough

When the fireflies glimmer and the moon does too.

A rustle in the bushes means the goblins are there,

And they'll pepper you with pine tar 

And tangle up your hair.

They'll grab you by the ear and make you listen to their moans,

And the noises coming out of them will rattle all your bones.

It's a terrible cacophony, a horrifying din

When from underneath the buckbrush 

The gnomes join in!

Dance, dance, by threes and by twos,

You crusty old goblins in your pointy little shoes.

Dance, dance, till the sky turns blue,

And then tumble down the hole 

where the water runs through.

Happy Halloween!

The Best Little Pickles You've Never Heard Of

 

Jar of freshly started pickles (right), and after 6 days of fermenting (left).

Not a melon or a cucumber, but something entirely different, Mexican gherkins are tiny, bite sized fruits that look like mini watermelons and taste like a lemony cucumber.  I got some seeds from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds and planted two vines, surrounding them with large tomato cages so they'd have something to scramble up on.

They took awhile to start producing, (the seedlings are very tiny) and they like warm weather, but once they got going, they produced huge amounts of  little, dangling fruit.  In fact, I had so many I decided to try pickling some, though I like them raw in salads and also in soup and stew, tossed in right before eating.  

I fermented them because it's so easy, and the beneficial bacteria produced during the fermentation process manufacture additional vitamins and enzymes (Mexican gherkins are already quite high in antioxidants, vitamins and minerals).  Plus fermented products add valuable probiotics to the diet.

After one delicious crunch of gherkin pickle, I was sold.  This is where they really shine!  Here's a simple recipe if you're lucky enough to find some fruits at a farmers' market, or grow your own.

Half fill a clean quart jar with rinsed gherkins, no peeling necessary,

Add a handful of spices of your choice.  I used garlic, fresh thyme and oregano.

Fill the jar up with gherkins, leaving 1 inch headspace on top.

Make a brine solution with 1 Tbs. non iodized salt (I like Himalayan pink salt) and 1 pint unchlorinated water.  Stir till the salt is dissolved, then pour over the gherkins till they are covered, but leaving that 1 inch headspace.

Cap the jar tightly and turn upside down, shaking gently to dislodge any air bubbles.

One last necessary step is to weight down the pickles so they stay under the brine, else they can mold on top.  Most sources say to stuff a zip lock bag filled with brine solution on top of the pickles to hold them under the brine.  But I don't like using plastic, so I invested in some ceramic discs made for this purpose that work beautifully.  You can also use a smaller jar that fits inside the fermentation jar.

Label the jar with the date and contents and put it on a saucer in a dark spot in your kitchen. 

The pickles will be ready in 1 - 2 weeks, depending on the air temperature and how tart you like them.  Start tasting after a week.  These delicious little pickles will keep in the fridge for many months, if they last that long!

Who Were The Wunks?

 One of my favorite poems from childhood was "The Raggedy Man" by James Whitcomb Riley.  I loved the whole thing, but the best part was the stanza that told how the Raggedy Man 

Knows 'bout Giunts an' Griffins an' Elves,

An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers the'rselves,

An' wight by the pump in our pasture-lot,

He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got,

'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can

Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann!

Er Ma, er Pa, er The Raggedy Man!

Giunts, Griffuns and Elves were interesting enough, and the Squidgicum-Squees were even better.  But the Wunks!  If anything totally captivated me, it was these creepy, shivery, mysterious things that lived underground and could turn into me!  Did that mean I would become a Wunk and have to live in a hole?

Now that I'm grown, I have to wonder what was in James' mind when he created the Wunks.  Was it just a fanciful whim that made a good story?  Or did he ponder the deeper meanings people might attribute to these delightfully scary creatures?  Whichever the case, the Wunks evoke ideas instilled in us as small children.  Bad things come from down below.  When we die, we go down if we've been bad, up if we're good.  The devil lives underground and can sneak into us, making us behave badly. 

Where did this belief of evil living deep in the earth originate?  Hell, supposedly in the center of the earth, is mentioned in the Bible.  But similar ideas were around long before the Bible was written.  Greek Mythology has its realm of Hades, early Mesopotamian religion from the third century B.C.E. mentions a version of hell. Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism also speak of it.  

So what's really down there?  I've been on a long quest to explore this topic more thoroughly.  Modern science has very few facts to offer.  Here are some gleanings:  

In 1997, geophysicists reported that, at the center of the earth, there is a spinning crystalline structure the size of the moon, more than 1,491 miles across.  

In 2007, scientists discovered a giant mass of water as big as the Arctic Ocean, hundreds of miles beneath Eastern Asia.  

Life forms (bacteria, archaea and fungi) have been found up to 2 miles below the earth's surface.  No one knows if they exist at lower levels.  

The Russians tried to drill a deep "Mohole", a hole through the Mohorovic Discontinuity, which is the layer that separates the crust from the upper mantle.  The project was discontinued 19 years later, after drilling only 7.5 miles (they wanted to get to 10 miles).  But the data they collected disproved many long held assumptions by geologists, so more questions were raised than answered.  Even if the Russians had completed their hole, it would have examined only one four-hundredth of the distance to the center of the earth! 

This is all very interesting, but neither modern science, nor the Bible, nor ancient myths and legends satisfied my quest for deeper answers about the connection between evil and inner earth.  So I turned to spiritual science, as I usually do, because it so beautifully combines philosophy, art, science and religion, giving a much more comprehensive view.

Some years ago, I bought a book entitled "The Inner Life of the Earth, Exploring the Mysteries of Nature, Subnature and Supranature".  The book is a compilation of seven modern writers with expertise in science, art, gardening, alchemy, geomancy, Christian astrology, eurythmy, anthroposophy and probably many other fields.  It's a whale of a book.  I've read it through two or three times, and refer to it often when researching various topics.  Parts of it read like an epic fantasy novel by J. R. R. Tolkien, who, by the way, though a devout catholic who attended mass daily, was influenced by anthroposophy. 

The seven authors approach this vast and complex topic from different viewpoints, but they all have the same starting point: that humans, of divine origin, were placed on earth to develop free will and love.  And this is the reason for our dualistic world.  In order to be truly free, individuals must have choices.  Evil and good are intertwined in us and in our planet so that we can choose the path we want to take.  If our world were perfect, without evil and error, we would all think and act one way because there would be no choice.  The goal, of course, is perfection, but it must be won through long eons of development, trial and error and hard work.

The writers also agree that planet Earth is alive with countless spiritual beings, some of whom work against the Divine plan and try to lure humans away from truth and love.  And it's plain to see that humanity's struggle with good and evil is perfectly mirrored in the earth.  The subterranean spheres surge with powerful energies that can erupt and cause great destruction, just as our own subconscious can.  Evil grows in the dark.  The Wunks are down there, and they are in us.

Two powerful weapons against evil are knowledge and consciousness.  The more knowledge we gain, the less vulnerable we are to untruths, fear and superstitions.  Read, study, discuss, observe, ponder, ask questions.  Listen to differing opinions and seek out sources of knowledge other than the main stream.  Most of all keep an open mind.  We are all students; we are all teachers.  Practice being more and more conscious of your thoughts, feelings and actions.  Consciousness illumines the dark corners where Wunks hide.  

If you are a person who doesn't believe in higher powers; if you believe that when you die, you die, end of story, then maybe you don't feel the need to save ourselves and our planet.  After all, what would be the point?  But try as I may, I can't fathom how a force as powerful as love could possibly just happen from some random cells clumping together, forming a bit of grey matter and a beating heart.  Spirit transforms matter, not the other way around.  

Maybe you feel that God will wave His hand one day and wipe out all evil for us, so we don't need to concern ourselves.

I believe our future is entirely in our own hands.  No one can save us but us.  Will we pass the test?  I can't help but feel a sense of urgency when I look at the world around me in these troubled times.  Courage is needed, and faith.  Here is a quote from the book I mentioned:

"A wise person once said that if you looked from space onto the dark Earth, you would see spots of light shining where individuals inwardly strive to overcome and transform evil forces emanating from the Earth, and that as long as this striving continues in a few places, humanity would be allowed to go on.  When white magic triumphs, no more evil will remain on Earth." (David S. Mitchell)      

Zucchini Roll Ups: Hail to the Zucchini Fairies

 

During these last dog days of summer the zucchini fairies are extra busy, sprinkling fairy dust over the squash patch.  Overnight, like magic, baseball bat sized zucchinis appear!  Our chickens help take the burden off (they especially like the seeds), but still, the squashes keep coming.  The following recipe is a good way to use some of them up.  The original recipe is long gone, but I've made them enough times to pretty much ignore measuring, and they always come out just fine.

Ingredients:

5 or so largish zucchinis, enough for about 6 cups grated

1 onion

2 or 3 cloves garlic (more if you're a garlic head)

Cheddar cheese - around two cups grated

A goodly amount of fresh or dried oregano

1/2 tsp. toasted and ground cumin seeds

Your favorite salsa

5 large size whole wheat tortillas

Olive oil

Grate the zucchini, (a food processor works good), put it in a bowl and sprinkle about 1 tsp. salt on it, massaging it in with your hands.  Let sit for awhile to draw out some of the moisture, otherwise the roll ups will be soggy.

Meanwhile, chop the onion and garlic and grate your cheese.

Squeeze as much liquid out of the squash as you can.  Save it for another recipe if you like.

Put some olive oil in a heavy skillet, saute the onion and garlic a few minutes, then add the zucchini, oregano and cumin and cook until the zucchini is tender.

Put it back in the bowl, minus any liquid left in the skillet (you can also use this in other recipes). Mix in the grated cheese.

Lightly oil a cookie sheet.  Put a generous amount of filling on a tortilla and roll it up, tucking one end in.  Repeat with the other tortillas.

Smother with salsa.

Bake at 400 for 20 minutes.

Let cool a bit and enjoy.  

 

Silver Bells and Cockle Shells

 Mistress Mary grew some pretty cool things.  Not to eat, of course, but I like to think her garden was more of an inner one, despite some interpretations of the rhyme which are quite dark.

We all plant seeds.  Some of them get well tended, some are neglected or forgotten and wither away.  We all bear fruit, maybe bushels and bushels, maybe just a little.  But quality is more important than quantity.  Growing a garden is hard work.  Sometimes, despite every effort, we fail.  Or do we?  It's easy to think yourself a failure if you don't reach this or that goal, without realizing that the effort required to pursue a goal is far more important than attaining it.  Striving is what molds character.  Striving affects our soul life, making us stronger and wiser, and hopefully more compassionate towards others who struggle and seemingly fail.

Growing a productive garden is most of all dependent on the soil.  Fertile, humous-rich earth, teaming with microbes, fungi and earthworms is essential for raising healthy plants.  Likewise, proper diet and lifestyle are the foundation which gives us the will forces necessary to think clearly and to act.  Processed, sugary convenience foods, no matter how good they taste, rob us of energy and brain function.  Coupled with lack of exercise and poor sleep, we become apathetic and foggy, drained of will power.

Try an experiment.  For one week, eat only whole foods, preferably organically grown.  Fruits and vegetables, whole grains (think oatmeal, brown rice, millet, whole grain sourdough bread), legumes, nuts and seeds, olive oil, lean meats, eggs, dairy if you tolerate it from grass fed cows in the form of natural cheeses, unsalted butter and unsweetened yogurt with living, cultured bacteria.  If you simply must have something sweet, mix a little honey, butter, cinnamon, vanilla, maybe some peppermint leaves or grated orange or lemon rind, chopped nuts and a couple of cut up dates.  Let it harden in the frig awhile to make it chewy before you eat it.  Try something new!  Take a walk every day.  Make it your top priority.  Make your heart and lungs work a little.  After a week, see how you feel.   As added incentive, remember you are doing this not only for yourselves, but for the entire planet and for generations to come who depend on our choices, thoughts and actions.  

Some people have only the clothes on their backs and a cardboard box to sleep in.  Think of this!  The more privileged we are, the greater is our responsibility towards others less fortunate.  We're here to love and to serve.  If we fail at something despite our best efforts, we can be comforted knowing that at least we've become stronger and wiser in the process.  If we fail due to apathy or complacency or lack of effort, our garden will bear no fruit.

  

Pandora

 I'm writing this article after much soul searching and inner dialog.  Is it best to lie low during a raging debate, not adding fuel to the fire, letting others do the talking?  This is by far the easiest and safest path.  Or is it better to speak out, drawing attention to oneself and risking discord with acquaintances, friends and even family members?  Those who go against the mainstream usually face ridicule, scorn, anger, censorship, sometimes even loss of life.  But where would we be if no one ever voiced differing opinions?  I admire courageous people.  So I'm sharing my thoughts and feelings here, hoping they might cast a small flicker of light into a dark and stormy topic. 

I didn't take the Corona virus vaccine, nor do I intend to.  Whether to get vaccinated or not is a deeply personal issue, and I would never question another's choice.  But I feel compelled to share the reasoning behind my own decision, as I don't like being called a selfish, ignorant idiot, or worse, a murderer.

First and foremost, I know my own body better than anyone else.  I'm in charge of my own health.  My decisions are consistent with my chosen spiritual path, lifestyle and beliefs.  

I've spent my adult life studying herbal medicine and natural healing.  I have an arsenal of potent herb tinctures, some from my own herbs, and I know how to use them.  I have always used them and have great faith in their healing powers.

Second, we're being told to follow the science.  So I have been.  I've been watching old Jack Benny shows which include the commercials.  One ad stated that doctors recommend menthol cigarettes for college students because they soothe the throat.  Hmmm.  We were told that DDT was safe, and that opioids were not addictive.  We were led to believe that scientific methods of farming (chemical fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides and GMO crops, factory farms and feedlots) would save the world from hunger.  Hmmm.  Scientific facts change over time.  The same test can yield different results, depending on who funds the research and what the agenda of the researchers is.  And sometimes it takes five or more years to learn long term effects of a new drug or treatment.  I'm not ready to trust the unknown when history has proven science wrong time and again, and when many highly intelligent voices are raising concerns.  One of the most troubling issues in the vaccine debate to me is the total suppression of these voices.  I've listened to researchers, scientists, physicians, virologists and immunologists with impressive credentials who have much valuable input.  Why can there not be round table discussions with differing opinions?  Why are those who disagree with the establishment viciously attacked, suppressed, discredited and threatened?  How can people make intelligent decisions without hearing all sides?  Are we not supposed to think for ourselves?

Yes, I know, it's easier just to believe in the mainstream, get the shot and get on with your life.  But ignoring questions doesn't make them go away.  Our future depends on the choices we make every day.  I have no children in school, no elderly relatives living with me.  I stay home and am happy to do so.  I wear a mask and avoid crowds when I go out.  I'm not afraid of the virus.  I'm not afraid of death.  But I have concerns for children and the future of humanity.  How do repeated vaccinations and booster shots of this entirely new vaccine affect immune systems?  How do they affect the virus?  We're already seeing more and more breakthrough cases.  Does this mean there will be more infectious variants as it learns how to evade the vaccine, just as bacteria have developed immunity to antibiotics, insects to pesticides, weeds to herbicides?  Are we comfortable with the ever increasing need for stronger and stronger drugs, chemicals and poisons to try and keep ourselves "safe" in the short term, ignoring the terrible toll it is taking on us and our planet?

Finally, I wonder as I always do, why there is not a greater focus on the importance of  healthy lifestyle in preventing or minimizing disease.  We all must take responsibility for our own health.  This may or may not mean getting a vaccine, but it also means taking part in open discussions without name calling, making healthier, more informed decisions about what we eat and how we live, and treating our planet and each other with reverence befitting the precious miracle of life.  

Beauty and the Beast

 

I grow bitter melons.  And yes, they're bitter.  Quite.  The flowers belie this, being sweetly scented and abuzz with pollinators.

The fruits are fantastically beautiful or ugly, depending on your feelings about warts.  There are many varieties with different shapes and sizes, some pale green, some white, some a lovely jade green.  Heat stress or maturity turns them bright yellow and orange.

They are easy to grow, though the vines need something to climb on.  I use large homemade tomato cages staked with rebar to keep them from blowing over in the wind.  Bitter melons aren't bothered by pests or varmints, which is a huge plus.  Right now in my garden the groundhogs, raccoons and opossums are wreaking havoc on the winter squash and melons, the zucchini and cukes are succumbing to cucumber beetles and squash bugs, and I must cover my greens every night with row cover to foil the rabbits.  But the bitter melon stands tall and untouched.  Maybe I'm a fool for liking something even the varmints won't touch, but I feel smug every time I look at them.

I eat them because I can, which might seem a strange thing to say, but due to food intolerances, I've learned to eat many odd things out of necessity or boredom.  I also actually enjoy eating them.  In fact, they've become a summer staple in my kitchen.  They have a pleasing texture that holds up well in cooked dishes, unlike zucchini which turns mushy if overcooked.  They are colorful, easy to digest and high in nutrients and fiber, particularly soluble fiber which feeds our microbiota.  Bitter melon has twice the calcium of an equal weight of spinach and twice the beta-carotene of broccoli.  I like to simmer chopped bitter melon in a little water or broth with onions and herbs and maybe some peas or spaghetti squash to round out the flavors.

Bitter melon, endive, onions, peas, purple basil, fresh hibiscus blossoms, carrot ginger ferment.

In addition, bitter melons have some impressive medicinal properties.  They're very beneficial for the liver, as most bitter foods are.  They have anti-diabetic properties that help reduce blood sugar levels and regulate insulin, are anti-inflammatory, anti-cancer, and good for the skin.  I won't go into depth on this topic, but anyone who wants to learn more can easily do so by searching online.

Rarely seen  in grocery stores, bitter melons are a staple in parts of Asia and India. Bitter foods in general are widely appreciated in other cultures.  Italians love their zesty greens like radicchio, arugula, chicory and endive.  In Europe, bitter apertifs and after dinner tonics are popular.  Traditional Chinese and Ayurvedic medicine believe that flavors must be balanced for optimal health.

Scientists did a study at Italy's University of Pavia by giving overweight adults a bitters formula before meals.  After two months, the subjects reported reduced appetite and consumption, lower cholesterol and blood sugar levels, and smaller waistlines. Bitter foods make us feel full more quickly, in part because they affect the hormones that control appetite.  They also stimulate enzyme production which helps with indigestion, heartburn, bloating and stomach upset.

We all want the sweet things in life.  We want ease and comfort, a peaceful environment, happy relationships, good food and plenty of it - sweet, salty, fatty food that pleases our taste buds and gives us that satisfied feeling.  Overindulgence is an easy habit to fall into, and bitter foods can be of great service in preventing this.  If overeating is an issue for you, instead of another plateful of food, have a sip or two of a bitter tonic or tea.  I guarantee your appetite will take a step back and you'll feel more alive and awake.

This dual natured world asks us always to seek balance.  The light must have darkness; creation can't occur without destruction.  Life must have toil and strife so we grow stronger by overcoming our demons.  Beauty and the Beast needed each other to better themselves.  Sweetness is addictive, but becomes cloying in excess.   

A good exercise is to do something you don't like to do every day, something that brings positive results.  It builds the will forces and fosters self confidence and resilience in the face of hardship.  Eat something bitter!  Your body will love you for it, and who knows, you may find beauty in the beast. 

  

Kaleidoscope

 

"Rebirth Through Exodus & Resurrection"

Art Eisenmann, 2003

My mother, Gwen Eisenmann, got her masters degree in creative writing from Antioch College when she was seventy-five.  She'd written poetry from a very young age, even had some poems published in books and magazines.  She'd kept a daily journal for many years, wrote a gardening column for a local newspaper, articles for a bee keeping magazine, and published a book of her own poetry.

As a young woman, she'd attended the Denver School of Nursing, in part because she could pay for her education through their work/study program.  She was a fine nurse, and worked for our family doctor after we children were through elementary school.  But writing was her calling, her chosen path of exploration into the farthest reaches of her own being as well as into the vast universe.  She wrote to express herself and to make sense of it all, or try to, with grace, beauty, wit and humor.

She was a very free and deep thinker, ahead of her time, always searching for answers to life's great mysteries.  She needed to know things.  She and my father were avid readers, and we children reaped the benefits of this, being introduced to the wonders of the written word at an early age.  We had no TV, we read instead.

My parents took a bible study course, joined a Great Books group and met with friends to discuss what they'd read.  But still my mother had questions.  How did humans come to be on the earth?   Where had we come from?  Where were we going?  Somehow, somewhere she needed to find answers.  So the search continued.

After retirement, my parents moved from Ohio to a remote area of the Missouri Ozarks.  There on a seventy acre plot in the Brixey woods, they built a beautiful home and carved out a homestead on a rocky hilltop named Rattail Point.  They built gardens, raised chickens, planted fruit trees, kept bees.  They made friends with a lively community of young, back-to-the-landers, and mingled with the native Ozarkers, absorbing their lore of the land, charmed by their quaint expressions.  They fished and swam in Bryant Creek, explored the hills and hollers, danced to fiddle and banjo music on misty evenings, accompanied by whip-poor-wills and twinkling fireflies. 

My mother relished the free time and solitude of her new life because she could write to her heart's content, but sometimes she chafed at the isolation.  The driveway was three quarters of a mile long, followed by 20 minutes (when the weather was good) of twisting, narrow dirt road to the black top.  No mail delivery at the house; my dad drove out almost every day to the Brixey post office where the postmistress, a retired schoolteacher named Bessie who used to ride her mule to a one room schoolhouse every day, would go behind the counter, push the mail through an open wooden box, enquire about the family and offer you a "cold sody".  There was no internet at home, only an ancient hand-me-down computer, huge and ponderous, that chugged and groaned and slowly recorded her writings.  

It was not an easy place to settle for the light and airy, butterfly-and-bird-loving spirit that was my mother.  The ancient hills of the Ozarks tested the mettle of any who dared disturb its wild and sometimes hostile energies.  There were copperheads and pygmy rattlers, brown recluse spiders, hordes of ticks and chiggers, rampant vines, thorns and poison ivy that needed constant hacking to keep them from encroaching on the homestead.  But my mother was no pushover.  She listened and watched, trying to learn the language of this strange new land.  Beauty and poetry flowed from the elemental voices of  rocks, vegetation, wind and sky and water, discernable to a sensitive poet. She wrote about her garden, the creatures who visited it, the people she met, the daily drama of life in the woods. 

Shortly after their move to Missouri, my parents met an intriguing elderly woman named Rosina.  Fiercely independent, with a brilliant mind and a will of iron, Rosina had raised a son and managed a farm all by herself.  And she knew things, or seemed to.

Rosina introduced our family to Anthroposophy, a term coined by an Austrian philosopher and seer named Rudolf Steiner.  Anthroposophy is a body of ancient wisdom handed down through the ages in mystery schools and small communities.  My mother began reading Steiner's books and lectures, soaking up the knowledge like a thirsty sponge.  Finally, at last, she'd found what she had longed for all her life.  The poetic, imaginative pictures Steiner painted with his words appealed to her artistic nature, the content moved her deeply because it was based on solid, spiritual scientific research by a man who had developed faculties of perception which he claimed lie dormant in all human beings, and which allowed him to read the cosmic script of all events past and present known as the Akasha.  His books and lectures delved deeply into the history of the earth, religions, cultural epochs, influences of planets and constellations and the development and destiny of human beings, woven into a panoramic view of time beginning eons before the earth was formed up to the present. For a writer, these new revelations and the thoughts and feelings they evoked were powerful fuel for the creative fire.

Rosina loved Mom's poetry and encouraged her to publish it.  She became a close friend, sometimes spending the weekend at the Rattail house.  She discussed politics and current events with my father; books, gardening and anthroposophy with my mother.  She had moved to a low income apartment in town after selling her farm, which she missed dreadfully.  The apartment was like prison to her, but age and health problems had forced her to relocate.  At age 80, she was diagnosed with cancer.  She refused all treatments and prepared for her death quite happily.  Life had grown tiresome and tedious, her body was wearing out and she was eager to move on.  She'd read and studied anthroposophy for so long that the thought of dying held no fear for her.  It was only a minor ripple in the grand scheme of things.  Even as her health failed, she continued to introduce anyone who would listen to spiritual science, including the owner of the nursing home where she now stayed.  He was so impressed with her that for a long time after her death he couldn't bring himself to put anyone else in her room.

As the years passed, the Rattail house, with its gardens, wood stove and staircases grew too difficult for my parents to maintain.  With heavy hearts, they sold it and built a smaller, one story house nearby on the black top.  They had five good years there before my father had a stroke and another move was necessary.  This time they moved to a community in New York based on Rudolf Steiner's vision for the care of the elderly.  It embraced people of all ages, races and religions, and included a large biodynamic farm, a Waldorf school and, for its members and co-workers, art classes, reading groups, music and drama performances and seasonal festivals throughout the year.  Now my mother had much new stimulation for her writing.  She started a poetry class which quickly became very popular.  Her poems graced mealtimes, weddings, births, funerals and parties in the community.

Though she sorely missed her home and gardens in Missouri, and my father after he passed in 2005, she took full advantage of what the community offered.   Story time, movies, art class, reading groups, performances, morning co-worker meetings, processing produce from the fields; Mom always took part.  Her little purple cushion would be placed on a chair in the front row before any gathering, to save the best seat.  

She astounded the doctors by recovering from not one, but two broken hips on different occasions, plus a cracked tailbone, all in her late 80' and 90's.  The doctor insisted she now use a walker, which she hated, pushing it up and down the halls of Hilltop House where she lived as fast as she could, passing up many younger members.  "Beep beep, coming through!"  For as long as she was able, she walked every morning on the hilly, wooded drives and paths that wound through the Fellowship Community, and when the doctor told her she couldn't walk alone, the co-workers took turns walking with her.

She took from life whatever lessons and treasures it offered, held them close, pondered them deeply, then poured them back out through her writing and through the light and fire of her bright spirit.  She passed away on October second, 2018, two days before her 97th birthday.  October was always her favorite month.

A few years before her passing, my mother had given my brother and me each a copy of a book entitled "Staying Connected: How to Continue Your Relationships with Those Who Have Died," a selection of talks and meditations by Rudolf Steiner.  We had both been students of Anthroposophy for decades, so this book was not a revelation, but it did give us much valuable information and opened new doorways for further study and meditation. 

Reading spiritual material is not like reading a book on history or math.  Different faculties are required; the heart and feelings must be engaged as well as the mind so the content becomes a living experience, not just an intellectual exercise.  I lived with the content of "Staying Connected" for a year or two before it came alive for me in a remarkable way.  During a conversation with my brother, he mentioned that he'd been having a powerful urge to write.

"Hmmm," I said, "that's weird, because I have too."  To be sure, I'd always loved to write stories, but now, suddenly, I felt an urgent push to write down my deepest thoughts and share them, and my brother Mark felt the same way.  We were both certain that our mother's spirit was making its presence felt, inspiring us to act.  I began to understand that writing was a tie that connected us, providing a means of communication.  Her thoughts are alive in me; I carry them forward, adding my own perspectives and views.  In this way I can further not only my own spiritual journey, but my mother's as well, and hopefully inspire others. 

Mark began writing poems, I wrote some short articles and a poem for my father.  The more we wrote, the easier it became to sense our mother's presence.  Her insistent voice would not be stilled. 

There are ways of communicating that go beyond the physical senses.  The heart knows how to do this, though its messages are usually ignored or overshadowed by the outer world.  But practice strengthens the connection.  The words flow, the feelings become richly engaged.  A turn of phrase, an expression, a sudden lightness of being or of gravity, a surprising thought that pops up unexpectedly all take on new meaning.  

Shortly thereafter, other voices began sounding in my brother and me as well, often at the same time without each others' knowing until later when we talked.  What a precious gift is the knowledge that I can be of service to those who have passed.  It is incredibly comforting, enriching, empowering, uplifting, and deeply sobering to realize that loved ones on the other side of the veil need us as much as we need them.  Our relationships continue, albeit in a different form.

There are thousands of accounts of people communicating with the dead.  If even one of those accounts is true, it means that human beings do possess organs of perception that can be developed to penetrate the nonphysical world.  To begin, one only needs belief and a feeling of reverence.  A grounding in spiritual science helps immensely, though it is not essential.  

It seems vital to me to talk about these things.  Humans still have so much to learn about life and death.  About the mysterious power that splinters itself into endless creations, no two alike, yet all related and interconnected.  I believe our individuality is eternal, each of us a vital piece in the kaleidoscope of creation.  The more we connect with each other, the more beautiful the pattern.  My mother's voice inspired me to write this.  Her spirit, so strong and giving, is just as alive as it always was and will be.

Methinks

The other day it occurred to me

I don't know who I am.

"Be a strong I" the old sage said,

and I thought "I" am Gwen.

But who is Gwen? She was a baby

her parents named long ago.

"Gwendolyn", said her Welsh grandpa,

and she's someone I should know.

The name is familiar; I've worn it so long

the sound is part of my soul,

so underneath the layers of life

there must be someone whole.

Let's see: there's Gwenny, my mother's child,

the one she taught me to be,

and then there's who I imagined myself

when I was grown and free.

I am a mother, a grey grandmother,

a wife with all the rest,

a nurse, a gardener, an ordinary,

but when is Gwen the best?

"Be a strong I" the old sage said,

and I thought "I" am Gwen

in body and soul, but Gwen is just 

a vessel to put an "I" in.

This "I" that thinks me who I am,

then, must indeed be strong

because beneath the layers I find

I've known me all along.

Gwendolyn Eisenmann