The Herb Hunter

Carrying on with the love affair! but why not, it’s such a worthy focus of attention. as we get through nettle season. And as we start to slow down in the nettle patches we start to embrace that goddess of all time and healing Elder. Stay tuned! and please bombard me with your nettle stories :)

Updates from the Undergrowth is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

All the websites mentioned on the show have now faded and no longer exist - however all my contact info for herbal and other inquiries can be found here and any resources mentioned can be found here.

More and then more on my favourite plant, inspired by the image of Roman soldiers guarding Hadrians wall while beating themselves with nettle so they wouldn’t freeze to death.

All the websites mentioned on the show have now faded and no longer exist - however all my contact info for herbal and other inquiries can be found here and any resources mentioned can be found here.

Such sweet medicine of discernment, indeed a whole essay of it below and first published here:

The Nettle in Me

A love letter to the edges of our selves

Natasha Clarke

Sep 22, 2023The Nettle In Me. I’m surprised that I haven’t been slapped in the face by now. That's another aspect of the Nettle in me. One that somehow just stands you down. I have Aries in Mercury resulting in communication skills that can be just bloody-minded. Blunt. Bludgeoned. Rude, without asking. Left-field, righteous, arrogant, like why don’t you shut up while I smack you in the gob, Natasha. And sooooooo to the point. That's the Nettle in me, those pointed offhand comments, each little syllable a sting of mind-bending perforation. We demand attention. And so smart about it. You feel it for days. To top it off, just so you remember, while I’m giving you the burn, it's funny to boot so everyone is laughing. It gets harder to give me a decisive fist. You have to really know that that's what you're going to do, smack me left side. And that's exactly what I’m asking for. The demand that you pay mind. Respond, react. My mouth fully armed in every way. That word smart resonating 180. And if you rise up to the call and grab me hard I'll surrender. Grab me hard and I'll disavow my vehement striding thoughts. Grab me hard and I’ll happily show you another point of view, swivel around and attack from a different perspective, grab me hard and hang on for the ride and all of a sudden it’s a joy, this urtification, the stripping down, the extremes of perception. All of a sudden, muscles of thought, and movement of mind wake up, re-arise, revolt. Grab me hard and we might end up being just downright intimate.

That's the Nettle in me. For a long time, it’s been a totem plant.

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I know how to pick a Nettle leaf, by grabbing it firmly, and fold it in on itself and eat it on the spot without getting stung. This trick is so cool that it quickly gets taught to others. Then it's in you. Nettle can become cell space.

In my mind's eye, I can see the nettle, in the forest, the Nettle stands like watchtowers on the edges, guarding what’s within. Hey to all who pass here. No one gets by without feeling their presence. The math of the forest, the monks standing guard. The praxis of family. Tall, rising, regulating. keeping mind. This almost invisible yet entirely present beautiful tall plant rising up spiraling out of the earth swathed in rich greens with the occasional flash of red deepening to brown, gathered in stands or hidden in the folds of the lush undergrowth, standing guard. Can we really see them? Or do we just glance away looking for other openings? Do we ever stay close to examine or do we instantly dismiss in judgement of our one-sided experience, one of pain, inconvenience, hurtful avoidance. Does that stop us from close examination? Or do we bend down to examine one of the most mineral-rich and bountiful plants on the planet that guards our wild places, stop to pause at the riches stored in the watchtower, stop to ponder what’s worthy to defend? And why? Those graceful green watchtowers that hold so well the functional space between us and them. I would love to see with otherworldly eyes, the communication lines. Golden threads under and overground. Would Nettle be the central control switch? At the clusters of the mycelium communication network? Nettle, the great modulator that is garnished up with drops of formic acid, activating the unseen court of histamine reactions, that can be felt as slow trickles of life shifting gossip or the fast flame of scandal. The constant play of what we perceive to be dangerous and what actually is is facilitated by nettle, To know what is in you, to know what it is that you need, know what exactly you can take in, know what you can absorb so that you can know to discard the rest. Knowing which means decisions at play, deciding what is best, The knights, those monks of the forest and field standing on the edges in charge of the vast riches of the earth knowing what to take and what to leave so that we can be nourished, nourished to do the work. As I spend the time to drowse in the Nettle forests, as I spend the time to look at these ancient knights of old, these are the thoughts that wonder. I grew up with the Nettle. When I was a child and I remembered how plants were. How the earth was. Something that was there always, like mother and father. A concept made real. Plants that reach out and touch us. This is the medicine that heals as I otherworld myself and my imagining starts to push-me-pull-you, invisible atoms at play.

I use fresh Nettle as an alterative to help against allergies and for calming and modulating the immune system.

That's what I want to see when I close my eyes, the inner workings - To feel as the plant feels, to slip back into another form, my nettle mind, where I can again stand tall armed with my swords of reason, waiting for the hesitant one to walk by, or the nervous one, the unwinding one, the careless one, the timed foe and say, nay, stab, point, prick, burn it in, yell with the whole of my being - Wake up! Pay attention! And then for your own sake, sweet gods and mercy, grasp, grasp with the lungs of your mute ancestor's silent clockings, grasp your share of momentum, your shining magic in this particular space in time and with every single breath that's yours, rise up and be. Decide, in this life that’s yours, decide how you stand in this.

When the nettle appears in late February to March it rises up out of the ground. It marches through early frosts and late snow, bursting forth, springing up with the season's birdsong. The plant resonates with a vitality that makes it appear plump, packed, vibrant, remarkable, this perfect package of minerals and vitamins, and so much more than just compounds or parts, so much in the whole. As the forest stirs into early life, the nettle heralds, resurrecting the goodness of the land and making the knowledge of winter available, the particular biome of this particular piece of earth, this underground, this digested end of the cycle, As the forest stirs into early life, the nettle begins to grow anew with this year's information of what’s available, waiting to be consumed so that nourishment can continue in the cycle of life, so that life can move, into and through, the earth's decay transformed into fresh life-giving vitality. It’s one of our most valuable greens.

Over time Nettle will fortify and add vigour to my general well being so I can resist, revolt and rewild. Over time I will gather the strength to step forward and live a life I can believe in.

It's like Berlin in 1939 as I go out to lunch with friends and we chat and laugh, while in the background starving polar bears trundle across a thousand remote iPhone screen islands. The satire has become a collective. The matrix has been broken. And what are we doing as we rampage with our sad so sad desperation of scarcity and competition? Which leaves us squarely in the not ever enough world? As we carry on with intentions while all the time agents of a consumption geared only to serve Homo sapiens rather than the whole, the earth? Supporters of this status quo? Every time a receipt flies out of shopping till I get to think of the dying breath of trees. Every time make my way, drive forward I get to prey to big oil. Where is my grounding? How can my adrenals stand another minute of the silent scream called daily life? The only sane left is the mad, honest enough to wear the right expression of aghast disbelief.

What to do? What to hold on to and let go of? How to discern as the waves of it all overwhelms in the inhale and exhale, as I break food out of yet another endless plastic packet. Caressing the curves of plastic water bottles instead of basket willow, cedar planks, aspen leaves, the overwhelm of it all and then I’m down back to that single layer, the monk in the watchtower. Calling to the Nettle in me, looking me down, telling me to pay attention, to what I can. To embrace the fall before the next step rises me up. To know where I stand.

Nettle will help restore and improve kidney function, allowing me to properly filter toxins out of my life, restoring parameters for what serves me.

I long for when we are embracing our medicine again. That's the Nettle in me. Wept hot tears over the madness of it all. Seen friends struck down with the confusion of function so departed from the heart. The loss of touching earth mother day to day. How I long to be moving with wild abandon within our intelligent landscape shaped by millions of years of purpose and care. To daily use and interact with the gifts that fall from the heavens, grow up from the ground, to simply touch and be touched by the world around me Feel the caress of what’s around me through the seasons, to truly sense how time changes. Our tendrils go deep into the dirt, our energy is rooted in this place and when we stop to embrace, when we have a connection we become changed. We become the praxis of family, tribe, one of a whole and the pain of one is felt by all, it matters, it has need and mind. We start to belong again and our weeping is more nourishing. And less recycled release. We are more nourished. As we drink the rich nettle medicine deep into ourselves our blood becomes calmer, our platelets slip and slide and we can negotiate the twists and turns. In fact, you could almost begin to sense the power of ourselves. The endlessness of us all. We guard the earth. The Nettle in me.

Nettles may be found by feeling for them in the darkest night - Culpepper

I should have come up with this. I mean it has everything, witty and deep with that chord of otherworld wisdom. A resonance ringing on truth. And indeed like all boundary medicine, we know when it's there coz it comes when we're not looking. When our notice is the other way. Of course, we don’t see the Nettle, we feel it, whether with intention or not. We're not navigating this life with our minds, that loves to rest in the twists and turns of story, we're seeing the way heartfelt, guided by that deep body wisdom, all the ancestors standing behind holding you here at this point in time. We have been seeking, there in the darkness, reaching out for something, some light, some truth and as we stumble the nettle bites us, face slapped with awakening, watch where you are going, pay attention! And as you sit in pain, or stunned, or blinded by the lifting of the veil, as you sit, maybe frozen, as you crumple to the floor exhausting the groan, that deep release of noise that comes from behind yourself, the resurrection begins. The truth of the situation revealed, the decision of the knowing, what is and has always been right in front of you, that great shifting of tension, the grand reveal as all the chaos slides into place. So now you get to be the knight in between. You move into the very present itself, the understanding of where you have been and where you are going.

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Don’t ever forget to thank the Nettle for giving you that moment. Or anyone else who has, in your life, been brave enough to let you down and deliver the unasked for truth. Been brave enough not to add to your illusion. There's a reason why more than I have called it the Nettles kiss in ages past as we brush up against these allies, this awakening, these little loves that love to sting, that suspended sensation of blinding white, the pause in between. The moment unseen where you can regather, regain, re-emerge. And that's what this simple line from Culpepper indicates by placing it in the darkest night. Putting it in the land of the unseeing, the land of feeling. Feeling through. For even when you are truly lost, your ego surrendered to all that is greater and truly unknown, for even in the darkest of the night, when the terror has consumed you and you lie in the belly of the beast, you can still reach out and feel, feel how you are not alone. Feel sharply how every moment we are all one or another and then we get the pause in-between, bridging alone and forever connected, we get the universe. That is how I receive the Nettles Kiss, how I hold the Nettle in me.

By consuming fresh Nettles I have a source of nutrients and amino acids that help me repair my structure, enliven my muscles and heal after deep internal wounds and trauma.

The medicine works with blood. I like to engage with the histamine aspect, what I call the math of the Monks. The Hermit with the single shining light. Leading me on, life-giving knowing. It's the fresh formic acid that I crave - that gift in the sting, that shot of atonement, adjustment, response provoking reality check. That readjustment of my overactive immune, my constant companion of unhinged fear, My terror, happily recursive by the terror of our times. Each time it brings what should be balanced into focus, different shifts of perspective as the years go by, as I welcome the medicine every spring. This year my attention is being directed to the difference between relaxing and numbness. Should I take the pause or the abyss? Apparently, I have to learn to relax and instead I crave to be numb, instead I want to lose myself in free fall so that I don’t have to engage, feel, respond, so I don’t have to think about my place in the planet, my footprints on the earth, the unsolvable problem times 7 billion. So I can just watch the late show that’s anything but outside my window. Something nettle is equipped to remedy. Full of Mars energy, its ruling planet and god, nettle knows when anger can be a life force, the reaction to the poke, prod, pain. Nettle knows when the pause can be rejuvenation and provides us with the utmost nourishment to guard against the abyss so that we have the strength to react, the pause to respond. As I walk through the edges, as I brave to notice what’s behind all the walls I seek that engagement with anger, seek to remain tethered to my care, knowing that without knowing my needs I cannot put my function effectively forward, I cannot serve the whole. I need to give a damn and the nettle in me stands me strong in my choices.The Nettle in me pokes me up again and again. "Pull on me" they whisper in fierce determination. Grasp us firmly, engage with intent and arise with us. I live in the woods so that I can peruse the edges and along with that the Nettle fields.

They know me. They are not so much loving as having tied me into the parameters of their landscape. I’m the one who comes tromping through with the dog, sometimes cat, often child and who then exclaims in greeting, responding to their vigour as I see the whole potential of the earth tightly folded into them. I’m the one who talks to them. They are slightly amused and steeped in irrelevance. They see the foolishness of our ways, the inevitable weakness of our greed. They have stood here before and they will stand guard after. They are the masters of stockpiling riches, which they unfold into the sunshine, continuously year after year, after absorbing all the waste, breaking down those big rich proteins excreted out in the endless cycle of taking in and letting go. Waste which they turn with water and fire into dense rich support. Next time you are out in the field get down, get wet, get dirty and get eye level with a young nettle plant. You will see two lips early parted kissing the sky as the nettle buds move upward. You will see the opposite leaves spiraling up, but more miraculously in the leaves puffed out in tiny little puckered pouches, you will see the origami of power, like our mysterious intestines, who also know how to discern nourishment, football fields all somehow squished into a tiny mobile sphere of the universe, both contained wonder of function and form. You can look and see the hairs, each one a tiny hypodermic needle filled with awareness medicine. I fill shopping bags with the young plants, picked lower than knee-high before they mature and need to be left to seed. I use scissors and gloves but always let the nettles kiss me first in greeting, so they know I’m back, so they can taste me and add into their underground database of what is. It's easy to get a big harvest, again confined to edges of a stand and before you know it you will have handfuls and bags of biomass, which will then in turn disappear, for there is a way that nettle moves through space, there is a way nettle has of taking up space, there is a way of knowing that nettle has with the pause in-between that always blows my mind - take class, for example, the many times I’ve taught how to make a nettle tincture. We will sit there with our mason jars, And there I am, the table piled high with nettles, 5 or 6 shopping bags full of origami Nettle, all small plump little powerhouses of potential, full in their prime and I’ll start to fill the jar, I’ll start to chop the Nettle with scissors, you need to pack the jar I enthusiastically explain and yet 45 minutes in you’re still stuffing and chopping. Packing them in, more than you ever thought possible. As they fold back into themselves traversing another world. And as I sit in class, with everyone watching, for like most of us the nettles love a laugh, and I sit in class wondering how I can speak about the inter-dimensionality of plant wisdom without sounding mad, best just let everyone else have a go. Experience it for your self. That origami. That unfolding folding of potential. That's the soul of Nettle.

Right there. The wonder of what can. And how you need to so pay attention to turn it into what can be.

The praxis of knowing into being. The Who I Am. The Nettle in me.

More on the uses of chickweed, a continuous reminder of how we have so much bounty around us and also an ask to look closely. I have never done anything that exciting with chickweed although upon reflection I might preserve it in vinegar or wine, all old school ways of preserving mineral rich herbs. You can totally add it to pestos etc, however I have always found it most beneficial to simply stand in the field and eat it like a horse.

Updates from the Undergrowth is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

All the websites mentioned on the show have now faded and no longer exist - however all my contact info for herbal and other inquiries can be found here and any resources mentioned can be found here.

So I’ve written a lot about this amazing friend and will include links but here are some of the many nettle herb hunter episodes that I have done over the years. Such a robust plant! As you can hear in this episode. This is the first time I recorded nettlefor the herb hunter and I love hearing how I get all worked up the longer I hang out with them. Invigorating is definitely a key word.

All the websites mentioned on the show have now faded and no longer exist - however all my contact info for herbal and other inquiries can be found here and any resources mentioned can be found here.Here’s one of my favourite herbal stories and nettle dance that I covered here:

Reframing Miracles

the doorways we don't know to go through

Natasha Clarke. Mar 01, 2022

One of the most unusual things Ive seen during my time as a herbalist was the uncanny timing and then subsequent response when a random neighbor popped round.

To start at the beginning of this yarn, it was early March and the stinging nettles were popping out from underneath the undergrowth. Now I don’t know about you but I can wax lyrical about these because young nettle just ooze power. Do me a favour and the next time you’re out look in some compost pile or wet soggy rich earth and see if you can find a stinging nettle. If you don’t see it you can always just close your eyes and start feeling through the undergrowth and sure enough it will find you! Haha! Anyway, kissed or not just hunker down and take a peek at all the unpacked, unfurled potential silently resting there, in the bright new green vibrancy of the nettle and feel its vibe. As Olivia and John sang it so well….its electrifying!

(this is pretty much what Nettle would look like apart from it would be green satin pants)So to get back to the yarn I was out with my friend, I’ll call her Shelly, in her yard plucking fresh young nettles so that we could juice them, rather like you would wheat grass and get all buzzed up with the amazing transformation of saturated soils, air and sunlight into the superfood goodness that are nettles. And when you catch the vibe of nettle, well you’ll know what was going down, we’re all chatty and wired and buzzy from the odd nettle sting when her neighbor burst in like a big huge balloon. Literally, this women’s face was twice the size and her eyes were almost shut and she was crying and her nose was running and she looked miserable. She was miserable, she told us in a voice filled with despair. “Oh God Shelly” she said “I cant stand it anymore, the tree pollen is driving me crazy, Ive been doing this for 3 days and Benadryl wont touch it anymore and I just don’t know what to do”Well for me this was a bona fide miracle, here this women is, in miserable distress from seasonal allergies and here I am holding in my hands right then and there a shot glass of fresh nettle juice, nettles being something that I will use to help with seasonal allergies amongst other things.”Well try this” my girlfriend says and we watch as she downs the shot in one. She then seems to wake up, like she had just walked in from another room. She inhaled and started to look around as if emerging from a reality where she had been forced to wear a particularly uncomfortable plushy suit, say barney the dinosaur which had no zipper and she never wanted to go back there. Not only that but she started to de-swell. Shelly and I were kind of gawking at her as her check bones emerged along with eye sockets and we felt like we were watching some fancy special effects but for reals.

As she returned back to her normal size, as her brain started to work again and registered the lack of acute discomfort she smiled and said “well that was great” and left.

We laughed because simply the timing of it and also more because we got to witness recovery, a return to normal rather than the usual parade of things unraveling that we tend to remember and base the future on.

But thats not really the most miraculous thing that happened. I bumped into Shelly’s neighbor a couple of months later at the local grocery store and of course immediately asked her if she become a big fan of drinking nettle tea to help her with her allergies. “Oh hows that Nettle working for you?” kind of opening which feels normal to me,.I’m sorry?” she asked looking confused. (which also feels normal ) It turns out she actually didn’t even remember the event let alone become a convert. The pain and then miraculous recovery, the bleak despair of overwhelm and then the awakening into the light filled horizon of serenity. Nope nada not a thing. And I understood. The whole experience had been totally out of context. It was framed in a way that had no real weight in her everyday life. No resonance. No connection and so was easy to tuck away as an anomaly and to forget as if it didn’t exist. Miraculous plant healing on your doorstep irrelevancy.

I of course then wondered what do I not pay attention to because it is so left field? Out of context? And what do I do that helps me to be able to pay better attention? What doorways have I forgotten? Or that I might have walked through without realising they are there?

All of these themes resonate with the teachings of the nettle, paying attention, discernment, nourishment. Which I will delve into more this month. For those of us that want to keep our eyes open here are some excellent guides to identifying nettle, preparing nettle and learning about just how good nettles are for you:If you only want to read one excellent monograph this is a good start: https://www.herbrally.com/monographs/nettleNettle pesto from a all round good beginners herb source mountainrose:https://blog.mountainroseherbs.com/nettle-pesto-recipe

Updates from the Undergrowth is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

So even though it’s still winter and cold and often freezing, foragers, herbalists, medicine makers, outliers and that rare of rare people who live life on the hoop are getting geared up for the prominence of spring. For the next 6 or so weeks I will be interplaying the magic of two very wonderful and so readily available fantastic herbs, chickweed and nettle. They both start emerging now and in fact chickweed is often with us all through winter if you’re say in England or the north west coast.This week we talk all about how it is to identify the herbs you’re harvesting and just the process that I go through as I’m hanging out in the sidewalks, yards and layaways, because for these little ones we are not so much trouncing through the deep forest and glacier meadows but the grunge ridges of our populated habitats.

So I have to say, after having gone through the covid years that the BCW tincture was one of the best things ever for that insanely painful sore throat. Simply fill a mason jar with all the fresh buds and all cover it with 190 proof alchohol - or the highest proof you can get (as we are dealing with a very resinous herb.) Put your lid on and then leave for at least 3 weeks shaking regularly, again thanks to the high resinous aspect of the medicine and needing to get it really “dissolved” or taken up by the alcohol.The BCW honey was fab and I highly recommend it. I’m a bit of a pooh bear honestly in that all things should be doused with honey but my all time favourite BCW medicine and one I love to make and pass along is the black cotton wood ghee, inspired by Michael Moore although he recommended tallow.

Oh And a correction, the actual full name of BCW is Populus balsamifera subsp. trichocarpa - I somehow forgot to say the whole thing

Use a 1:1 fresh black cotton wood buds to ghee weight ratio, macerating the buds very gently in the ghee (beware the crispy cockroach stage - means you’ve gone to far) for a long time over a low heat. I would place mine in its special black cotton wood pot near the wood stove and let it sit for a couple of days where it would go through heat cycles with the wood stove. You can use a water bath type crock pot also. When you get tired of baby siting the menstrum strain with your special black cottonwood sieve and put in container of choice.What’s a special BCW pot and sieve? Well its one that you get from the thrift store and use year after year. These things are impossible to clean well unless you want to use gobs of alchohol and basically are ruined for any other use. Simply scrape clean and put away in a ziplock bag for next year.

The ghee absorbs wonderfully into the skin and can also be cut with your favourite oil to make a great daily winter moisturizer with the added benefit of smelling divine.

Again medicines I like to make are:

Tincture with 190 proof ETNL (dont need much, a quart will last a long time as a little goes a long way)Infused gheeInfused oil - Safflower or olive oil will do but Ive also used castor oilInfused honeyAgain for those of you wanting to buy buds I believe that Reisha and Gabe might have some ethically small batched wildcrafted buds in the store

www.waysidebotanicals.com/shopOh And a correction, the actual full name of BCW is Populus balsamifera subsp. trichocarpa All the websites mentioned on the show have now faded and no longer exist - however all my contact info for herbal and other inquiries can be found here and any resources mentioned can be found here.

A bit of a rant on mono cultures and the mindset that comes with that. More on the medicine and recipes next week.hugs and love

the herb hunterAll the websites mentioned on the show have now faded and no longer exist - however all my contact info for herbal and other inquiries can be found here and any resources mentioned can be found here.

As we move into the ecosystem of black cotton wood.For those of you who dont have access to black cotton wood and would like to get your hands on some of these wondrous sticky buds you can purchase ethically wildcrafted buds from my friends Reisha and Gabewww.waysidebotanicals.com/shop

All the websites mentioned on the show have now faded and no longer exist - however all my contact info for herbal and other inquiries can be found here and any resources mentioned can be found here.

This month we celebrate the glory of black cotton wood with 4 recordings made between 2016 and 2019. Its a fitting start to the podcast as it was the beginning of the herb hunter radio show all those years ago and indeed where I got the first flash of insight, on a cold crispy January morning as I crept through the sandy black cottonwood groves on the bank of the great Skagit river.

And indeed this is the first recording I ever made, its very stilted, way too slow and hesitant as I had yet to hit my rhythm. And even though it can make me cringe its good to hear the progression as the show matured, something which I hope you to will enjoy and be along for the ride. Looking through the undergrowth for fallen branches from these giant deciduous tress felt like I was stalking prey, the early morning frost lending clarity and calmness to my first of the year harvest. Funnily I began to hear the voice of the great David Attenborough in my mind, describing the scene and suddenly realised that commenting on the behavior of trees could be just as interesting as animals.

That began the beginnings of this very modest 5 minute show, recorded in the field, street, waterways, bush and forest, mostly off the cuff and always with my wonderful dog Bill, who’s collar you can often hear jingling in the background.

All the websites mentioned on the show have now faded and no longer exist - however all my contact info for herbal and other inquiries can be found here and any resources mentioned can be found here.

I hope to add recipes and resources to go along with these podcasts but I’m sure that will wax and wain, feel free to inspire conversation with questions and inquiries. Mostly I hope you enjoy these windows into the wild and get an idea of how a practice of constantly caressing nature, touching the earth, sensing the other brought me to a place of belonging, of being held and coming home.Much love

the herb hunter

Greetings my lovelies, this month brings with it the settling and resting of my spirit, my feelings and my thoughts as routines begin to take hold and expectations are somewhat able to be met.Todays meditation is inspired by the river and the season, the season in which we look to what we let go off, what has passed through us this year and the emptying, the release before we go fallow with winter.

The river held me all summer. I am about 5 mins away from one of the forks of the Snoqualmie, our launching place a little elbow nestled into scrappy willows and rock and it is from here a troop of us would bustle down with our “tubes”, a various assortment of inflatables, and throw ourselves into the wild river for a great epic adventure, giving ourselves over to the current and flow and all the surprises just round the corner that is a constant giggle and thrill of anticipation. The just underwater rocks, the shape and edges and mysterious depths, the shallow ledges, mere inches of river that we would stubbornly scout along, seemingly unable to get out of the tubes and walk because staying afloat at all costs was the moto and very much echoed by the seemingly chaotic whirl of what ever was happening on the other side of the river bank, in the real world.

One of the more left field revelations that I had while walking to the river, with my tube around my waist, all blown up and resting comfortably on my hips, was the sudden realisation of how difficult it is to navigate rocky terrain and uneven slopes when you can’t see your feet. Of course for me this was resolved by simply removing the tube and carrying it on my shoulder but I was struck with the thought that there was a time when women hadn’t been able to see their feet for a couple of centuries with all the wonderful flounces and hoops and bustles, the great billowing fashions of the day keeping them on smooth and unfettered pathways.

Such a contextual quagmire, how and who gets to manage our comfort, convenience and safety, who it actually effects and who it benefits and its priority in our society.

And it is indeed context that seems to be missing in many of the conversations that are happening around safety and freedom today. In my mind this is because we are separate from place which is quite clear on context - actual landmass with finite resources which hold us accountable in so many diverse ways. But that was then and here we are in the here and now.

I’m sure I will circle back to this but for now blessings on the wind and thanks for listening! I leave you with a river song:

A heads up to local folks, I am holding my first plant meditation next Wednesday 12th of October at 7pm in North Bend

https://www.natashaclarke.com/eventsandclassesJoin me in this practice of deepening relationship with plants as medicine through waking dreamwork, meditation and ceremony. In this group setting we will practice working with our senses in new and different ways. As we practice trusting what we feel we will inherently deepen our relationship around our own self worth.

I have been holding these groups with safety and inclusion for the last 10 years and have been constantly inspired by how these simple techniques practiced together can give back to ourselves and our relationships.

This workshop uses the wisdom, guidance and love that our teacher plants have to offer us, with some very simple and traditional practices, which have their roots in the ancient art of herbal healing. We will gather, show up present and grounded and meditate together with a couple of local medicinal plants, by tasting the tincture and sharing what impressions we receive from the plant and the experience. Donations welcome and no one turned away by lack of funds. To reserve your spot sign up here