In Defense of Gluten

My daughter and I love making pasta. We start from scratch, and enjoy mixing the dough by hand, kneading it while we talk, and finally running it through the Imperia pasta machine to make lasagna sheets, noodles, or squares to stuff with filling. 
The recipe is pretty simple, adapted from my father's teaching and from the work of the late great Marcella Hazan. It can be scaled up for any size meal, or you can just make lots and store the dough balls in your fridge for a week or more, ready to dust with flour and roll out into beautiful sheets of pasta.

Take 1 cup all-purpose flour and make a "volcano".
In the hole of the "volcano", crack and beat 1 egg.
Add 1 TBS of olive oil, and 1 pinch of salt.
Add 2 tsp of water (or tomato juice, or nettle infusion). The water helps the gluten form properly.

To this basic template you can add rubbed sage, or chopped parsley, or calendula petals, or cuttlefish (sepia) ink. The possibilities are endless

Slowly incorporate the flour into the egg/oil/water mix. When it's mostly blended, start squishing the dough with your hands and fingers until it forms into a glossy ball (or multiple balls, if you're using more than 1 cup of flour). Keep kneading until the dough becomes elastic and supple.

Place the ball of dough in a plastic bag in the fridge for an hour or two, then take it out and cut in half. Press the dough into a flat pancake - and you're ready to feed it into the pasta machine!

The quality of the dough relies on a protein present in wheat, called gluten. I've been unable to achieve the stretchy quality of good pasta dough any other way. It's elastic, resilient, and can be rolled incredibly thin without tears or breaks thanks to the gluten polymer keeping everything "linked up". Part of what kneading accomplishes is to link many gluten molecules together to achieve this resilient "sheet" effect. I apologize if gluten offends your sensibilities (or you GI tract) - but it's really a beautiful thing.

The other day my daughter and I were admiring the thin sheets, looking at how the light from our western windows glowed through them, alabaster-like. She came up with some great similes to describe the fruits of our labor. I told her I'd steal her words - which led to a conversation about exactly what I meant by that, how one could "steal" words, what plagiarism is. Good stuff for a four-year-old. Regardless, here's my plagiarism in action. It's an ode to gluten.


Metal rolls thick dough
until, when held up
evening sun shines through it -
thin as a rabbit's ear,
silky and cool. We clear
flour off the pine board
and lay a long sheet out
thin as a petal.

Three simple medicines for winter health

Consider these quick, easy preparations to add to your pantry as the season gets colder. They are based on three general ideas in herbal therapeutics: tonify immunity using botanicals that interface with our innate immune systems via gut-associated lymphatic tissue; improve circulation and load the bloodstream with pungent, volatile, antiseptic substances that escape through the respiratory tract; and reduce inflammation while encouraging perspiration to relieve symptoms of congestion and fever.

Bliss balls:
1 1/2 cup nut butter or tahini
1 cup molasses
2-4 Tbs maple syrup
2 cups cacao
8 Tbs powdered herbs - Astragalus and Reishi (Ganoderma lucidum, G. tsugae), in equal parts.

Mix nut butter, molasses and syrup. Add cacao and mix. Slowly add herb powders and mix well - roll into 24  2" balls, dust in cacao, take two daily.

These are nourishing, rich in immune-active glucans and saponins, and have a high compliance rate.

Fire cider (a classic recipe, via Rosemary Gladstar):
2 onions
2 heads of garlic
1/4 cup grated Ginger
4Tbs turmeric

1/2 cup grated Horseradish (fresh)
1/4 tsp cayenne
3 qts. Apple cider vinegar

 

Mix all ingredients together. Shake occasionally, and allow to steep for at least two weeks; strain and bottle. Take 1/2 to 1 teaspoon three (or more) times a day at the first signs of cold or flu.

 

Definitely fiery, you may want to use caution in more sensitive constitutions. A great remedy for the fiery type who gets stopped in mid-stride by the flu. Soothes the belly, provides warmth, encourages perspiration, and protects the lungs from infection.

 

 

Herbal decongestant tincture:

(all herbal ingredients are dry)

2 ounces Elderflower

2 ounces Catnip

2 ounces Goldenrod

1 quart (liter) of 100-proof spirits (vodka, e.g.)

 

Mix all ingredients and seal in a closed 1/2 gallon mason jar. Shake occasionally, and allow to steep for at least two weeks; strain and bottle. Take 1 teaspoon in a little water three times a day for congestion and/or fever.

The high bioflavonoid concentration (quercetin and related compounds, e.g.) in goldenrod reduce airway inflammation and swelling, while elderflower and catnip thin mucous secretions and gently encourage perspiration to help manage fever.

Nike! An equinox exploration on psychedelics, running, and victory

In the story of the battle of Marathon it's rumored that, after running back to Athens following his people's brutal battle with the Persians, Pheidippides uttered a single word - nike!, which means victory - before collapsing dead from exhaustion. He most likely meant to convey news of victory in battle, but he may have meant it for himself, too: despite his unfortunate end, there must have been a moment of deep joy and satisfaction once he actually made it home.



So the outcome, I'm learning, may mean less than the struggle: experiencing challenge, whatever that means to you, is more life-giving than actually surviving, coming in first, or whatever external measure of success you may choose. When performed repeatedly, the process makes us "better", more creative, and more confident. Some say adversity builds character, but I'd say that it's moving through the adversity that really makes us strong.

At Johns Hopkins University, in the medical research department, they seem to have found pharmacological agents that can approximate these effects. When people consume them, their spirits become younger, their thoughts more flexible and tolerant, their minds more creative. In other research, clinicians are discovering that the profound retreat, fear, and rigidity that accompanies post-traumatic stress can be healed by similar substances. It turns out that these are deep, shamanic medicines that humans have used to "tone the spirit" for a very long time: mushrooms rich in the alkaloid psylocibin are gaining more and more interest as tools for psychiatric disease. Somewhere out in interstellar space Timothy Leary's disembodied energy construct is chuckling.

Psylocibin and other "psychedelic" substances are interesting in their effects. Most of them have a certain degree of discomfort that accompanies their use. Some, like salvinorin-A (from Salvia divinorum) are downright scary at high medicinal doses. If you've ever tried these plants or fungi, you may have noticed that there is a period of "ramping up" of the effects, a "peak" during which the effects are most intense, and a long "tapering off", which can last hours. During the peak, people can feel confusion and disorientation, or even fear, as pretty dramatic changes sweep over their bodies, sensory systems, and mind. I've often seen folks attempt to escape the drug's effect, which is unfortunately impossible, and get stuck in spirals of self-doubt, paranoia, and isolation - the classic "bad trip". But most of the time, we move through that tough part by letting go of fear, and then the hours that follow become a joyous celebration of "victory" in the battle with the darker side of the psyche.




Perhaps it is this struggle and release that makes psychedelics such good medicine: they present us with a challenge and a choice, give us a chance to meet the tough part of life, and let us wind our way through. This isn't the false sense of invincibility engendered by stimulants, nor the care-free euphoria induced by depressants. It's an actual challenge, and the work is up to us, not the substance. Once we do the work, we become "better", more creative, more confident. We may not need to cling to our old mental framework for self-validation anymore - so our personality becomes more tolerant. Fear loses the ability to keep us locked in.

So for me, finding a way to experience the tough parts of life routinely, in a safe way, is an important spiritual practice. I use physical exertion to do this, and specifically running. I won't go in to why I think running is the best tool for this - that's really just my own opinion. Ultimately, it doesn't matter how you get there, be it through running, other physical activity, meditative practice, fasting, your job, or maybe just your life's circumstance (the fact that I have to actually work at finding adversity in life is a reflection of my societal priviledge). So if you're a runner, what follow are some of my thoughts on training, progress, and balance. If you find your challenge elsewhere, take them as a metaphor during these days around the equinox, when the days rush fast to dark, and the wind blows leaves around.

We don't train for speed or distance - those are just tools. We train to keep going through the tough bits.

We don't train for speed or distance - those are just tools. We train to keep going through the tough bits. Speed and distance are ways to get us there. How do you know that you're experiencing difficulty in training? Well, it just feels difficult! But beyond the subjective feeling, there is a semi-objective way of quantifying your level of physical exertion: the ratio of strides per breathing cycle.

A breathing cycle is inbreath-outbreath. It's interesting to note that this cycle tends to settle into a regular rhythm with strides: during a light jog, you might get three strides in for each in-breath, and three more during the out-breath, for a total of six strides per cycle. Five strides per cycle is still pretty relaxed, but by the time you're at four strides per cycle, you are certainly working a little harder. I aim for this target in my workouts: the first quarter should be at four strides per cycle, the second and third quarter at three strides per cycle, and by the time you're at the last quarter, you should be experiencing some two-strides-per-cycle stints fairly frequently. Two strides per cycle is tough. It's hard to sustain. Try to sustain it.

Since the level of oxygenation required is a direct reflection of your fitness, there's no "pace" that correlates to two strides per cycle. It depends how fast you're going, how far you've gone, and how fit you are. You can get there quick with speed. You can get there slow with distance. But I've often thought, breathing in-out-in-out with every step, how the feeling I'm experiencing is the same feeling all humans have had at this level of exertion. It's universally relate-able. We may be going at different paces, but it's tough - and if we can push through it, we feel amazing! It's an altered state few even get to touch, let alone indulge.

Speed is the tool of fire - it's short, but intense. There are a couple of ways to experience difficulty using speed: you can go at a tough pace for a medium distance, or you can go really fast for a short stint, take a little break, and repeat (a practice known as "intervals"). As usual, start with a pace that puts you into four strides per cycle. If you're not moving naturally into a three-strides ventilation cycle by the 1/4 mark, you need to speed up. See how this can work for any distance? If you want to go for two miles, you should be switching to three strides by the half-mile mark. If you want to go for twenty miles, hold off until you reach the five mile mark.
Interestingly, when using speed as a tool, your heart rate is generally higher. Herbs that support this training are often hot and fiery themselves: ginger, cayenne, even turmeric. They improve circulation and maximize oxygenation. The injuries that result from fire-training are injuries to the soft, connective tissue of the body: ligaments and tendons. Herbs that support these are cooling and often demulcent: solomon's seal, comfrey, horse chestnut. Too much yang injures the yin.

Distance is the tool of water. It's long and slow, but grinding - eroding at you like waves on a rocky coast. You get to the tough parts by exhausting all your energy - a different feeling from the muscular fatigue that accompanies speed, but an important one to dance with. What's "distance"? It varies from person to person. If you start getting into a two-strides-per-cycle pattern after two miles, even if you start out nice and easy, then two miles is "distance" for you. But regardless, if you aren't into a three-strides pattern by the halfway mark, you need to pick up the pace.
When using distance as a tool, you need to feed your system with watery, nourishing herbs and foods: oats, even licorice. And the injuries that come from distance are often injuries to the vital fire: we need adaptogens like rhodiola, schisandra, eleuthero and cordyceps if we find that distance workouts leave us feeling achy, depleted, and listless the next day. Too much yin injures the yang.

Speed and distance are the fire and water, the light and dark, of training. Try for a little of both each week. But both are challenging. Though they reflect balance, we also need to balance difficult training with more restful, "easy" days. If you run three days a week, try for one speed day, one distance day, and one day where you stay at four strides per cycle or more for the whole run. This gives you a chance to warm up your body and then maybe do some gentle stretching or strength training afterwards. If you feel tired, haven't gotten enough sleep, or are a bit under the weather, consider modifying your workout: if you're going for speed, keep the same pace but go a shorter distance. If you're going for distance, keep the same mileage but go slower. Eat well. Take your herbs. Sleep deeply.

Finally, there's a seasonal cycle as well. Find the time of year when you like to go faster and farther. Find the time of year to focus on less vigorous exercise, too. If you listen to your body while ensuring regular, ongoing discomfort, then you will embody the spirit of the equinox: balanced, but rushing. Perfectly poised, but wildly flying apart. The repeated experience of challenge will make you stronger, and your mind and emotions will benefit, too. Victory!

Emile found his reading glasses

Tomorrow, before sunrise, we leave to return to America. I'm excited - I'm missing the Green Mountains. This has been an amazing month: slow, warm, and rich. I'm certainly very well fed. I leave these hills, lake, and mountains with another short poem inspired by a fellow guest staying in this old villa (the original cellar dates to around 300 C.E., we think).


Emile found his reading glasses

Perhaps propped against a stone -
yellow, pink, grey -
that had fallen from the old wall;
or left, half-open, in the dry grass
and fragrant mint and sage
because he'd gotten up too fast;
maybe in a crook in the roots
of a twisted olive, silver-green,
that matched the color of the frames:
the clear lenses disappeared into the land
where he searched all afternoon.
I didn't ask when, this morning,
they appeared
neatly folded, on a book
in a leather chair
by the window with the lake view.

An herb walk through the high Alps

I've been away from technology for a few weeks. Wandering the Alps, valleys where I grew up, in deep old forests carpeted with wild bilberries and up above the treeline in full view of the Dolomites. I've walked some really well-worn paths, visiting with the plants along the way and thinking about consciousness, presence, perception. These mountains are us - or, at the very least, I can feel the boundaries of my consciousness bleed into the the rocks and forests, the trail becoming more than a footpath, the walk becoming a habit the whole ecology has practiced for a long, long time. Do you know what I mean? Mountain telepathy, Euphrasia mind-meld, or really just finally resting in the place where "I" really feels like a composite of everything here.

Start in the warmer valleys, where the water slows down and there are many rock walls. It's shady here, maidenhair (Adiantum) grows thick and wild yam (Dioscorea) vines thread through.

 

By the streams, old friends. Wild monkshood (Aconitum), deadly toxic, hot and dry root by the cool streamside, pops up once in a while. With luck, some late-blooming narrow-leaved orchids (Dactylorhiza traunsteineria) come up in a patch, remembering days from the earlier season. 

 

 

Getting higher up, the spruce stops and a few low junipers and mugo pine are left clinging to the white crumbly soil. Above the treeline, in the bright sun, so many familiar species: first the wild creeping thyme (Thymus serpyllum), classic bronchial remedy that's always found in the kitchen.

Alongside the thyme, eyebright (Euphrasia) appears in big patches, parasitizing the native grasses. It's an old remedy for itchy, tired eyes (especially during allergy season), and has a unique, multicolored flower. The patches are everywhere along the rocky trail.

And, more rare but still fairly available, are clumps of wild gentian (Gentiana campestris), also known as German gentian or field gentian with a characteristic five-parted flower. This isn't the official medicinal species (that's G. lutea), but it is nevertheless still quite bitter and local folk use the whole plant as a digestive aid (even the flower has an intensely classic bitter taste).

Where the grass gets taller, among the Campanula, sit a few Arnica montana plants, with their big, lone, yellow flowers. When I was young, we'd collect these, soak them whole in grappa (60+ percent alcohol), and use the product as a liniment for all manner of bruises, scrapes, falls, and sprains - which often occurred on walks to harvest the Arnica...

And, of course, no walk through these mountains would be complete without the flower that most embodies the spirit of this magical realm. She's soft, silvery, and hardy. Her medicine is that of shining white beauty of the mountaintop, and you can't pick her. Even if you could, the power comes from being there, walking there, sitting up there next to her. Edelweiss (Leontopodium) is the reward for those who breathe the high, clean air. She'll nourish you for a long time. Her mind is my mind.

Make it home

We part, from time to time,
and travel two roads in this green world.
I return first and find
the grass tall, the garden unruly,
the house quiet, an unfamiliar smell.
When I turn old, all I hope for
is the sight of you on the country lane
walking back
to make it home.

Herb Power: find your wild ally this summer

Recently, scientists uncovered the remains of a Neanderthal tribe that lived in the area now known as Spain, some 50,000 years ago. Analyzing residue on their teeth, the researchers discovered traces of powerful chemicals: triterpenes and lactones from chamomile and yarrow were still detectable, and indicated that these early hominids consumed these plants, which have little or no caloric value. It’s an intriguing finding: have we been harnessing the power of herbs for that long?

In fact, we may have been herbalists well before we were human – from an evolutionary perspective, at least. Primates are the most enthusiastic, but many other species (from bees to elephants) employ plants just as the Neanderthals seem to have done: small quantities of wild botanicals that have little caloric value are used, deliberately and effectively, to maintain health. While lacking an understanding of physiology and biochemistry, animals (and early humans) still realize that renewing a connection to the wilder side of the dinner plate is a daily necessity.

Christina Warriner studies archaeological evidence to piece together a picture of what how our oldest ancestors nourished themselves. She has come to three basic conclusions: first, ancient diets were incredibly diverse. They were different from region to region, from season to season, and featured a vast amount of different plants as well as some meat and animal fat. Second, all those plants came in small, frequent doses, and included herbs that were relatively “calorie-poor” (as we saw in the Neanderthals). Finally, the plants our ancestors consumed still had large amounts of phytochemicals – plant constituents with biochemical action and that have been largely bred out of modern vegetables. The plants we used to eat had strong, often bitter flavors, were hard to find in quantity, and were – to put it simply – powerful.

What happened? Over all these years, we’ve drifted away from these plants. The diversity of our diet is at an all-time low, starring only corn, wheat and soy (along with traces of other, highly hybridized, veggies). We eat lots and lots of these plants, and almost none of the “calorie-poor” herbs that have been animals’ companions for millions of years. The chemical potency of our dietary plants is all but gone, bred out because of its unpalatable flavor. Many have been telling us that the “Western” diet is killing us slowly, and lies at the root of the modern epidemics of mental and spiritual distress, digestive disease, cardiovascular illness and cancer. They warn us to turn our backs on the modern foods we’ve grown accustomed to – and that our lives may depend on it.

If you’re into herbs, you may have a different take.  It may be possible, and in fact preferable, to restore diverse, wild, powerful botanical chemistry into our daily lives and, by so doing, circumvent the risks of the “Western” diet. It may not be that wheat, soy and corn are killers: it may just be that, without our old allies, our bodies have forgotten how to work properly. They are out of context. And wouldn’t it be great if, by bringing that context back, we could enjoy a modern, urban life without the risks and diseases associated with it? That is precisely what herbs can offer us: they are easy to grow, simple to prepare, and deeply nourishing, enlivening, and restorative when consumed habitually. They provide the context our physiology needs, while linking us back to the wilder side of nature. This wilder side is calling us: it’s green, open, sexy and powerful. With it, we are at our most vibrant.

So herbs are radically different from drugs: they are more akin to physiologic building blocks, the vectors for cross-kingdom signaling, a way for plants to guide us to our best potential. While some can definitely treat disease and infection in the short term, herbs really shine at slowly rebalancing us in our entirety, so that mental distress, spiritual malaise, toxicity and inflammation melt away like snow in warm sunlight. The safe medicinal herbs are often weedy, or at least ridiculously easy to grow, and their preparation and administration are simple and worry-free. And think about what happens when you start to see a dandelion as more than just a pest: could it be an old friend? Could it have something in it that we lack, that used to be as familiar as electricity is today? Strange things start to happen to our ecological and cultural outlook when we begin to ponder these questions.

This is what I encourage you to do: find a wild plant, maybe one with a historical record of medicinal activity, to be your ally this summer. Identify it with certainty, make sure it’s safe. Watch it grow, slowly at first, then faster as it bursts into flower, sets seed, matures its root. Taste it. Harvest it. Sit with it on sunny mornings and through rainy afternoons. This medicine is very real, but it is also very different. If you want to find the true power of an herb, you will have to approach it as a friend, not as an alternative to a pill. In so doing, you won’t just discover medicine. You will come home, too.

A plant's perspective on the herbalist's work

In my dream last night, I was walking with an old friend. We were making our way through overgrown meadows, along a stream that drained a big pond. A thicket of small trees and sumac came up on the left, and my friend walked in, all of a sudden very excited. He called to me to follow. He was looking for a plant he'd seen there, one he wanted to show me, one he was thrilled to have found. In that state of semi-lucidity so often encountered in dreams, I though to myself "ooh, a plant dream. This is going to be good." I got a little excited too. He pulled some brush aside, and there, in moist rich soil a few feet from the stream, was a tiny burdock plant. I remember looking at him like "you've got to be kidding me."
He proceeded to tell me all about how he'd been waiting so long for burdock to return to this land, how wonderful and special a plant it is, how it digs deep magic out of the hardest places, how it brings just the right kind of moisture to the skin. I wasn't too impressed, but I indulged him - after all, he was an old friend I hadn't seen in a long, long time, and he was apparently talking about an old friend of his that he hadn't seen in a long, long time either...

When I woke up, I spent a good while solidifying this dream in my mind. Because, in the end, I actually think it's a pretty good reminder for me. Yes, it's important to remember that even our more "common", weedy herbs are useful and deserve attention. But what lingered most in my early-morning consciousness was the feeling, just the raw feeling, that the burdock baby had projected when my friend approached it with so much love and reverence. How it beamed when it heard him speak the words describing its virtues. I wondered how other burdocks might feel when, maligned by dairy farmers, they are burnt, beaten, and otherwise berated.

The herbalist's role in the ecology is that of a connector. We often focus on how we help people in need - reconnecting them to nature, to old friends, to missing pieces. But what of the other side of the link? Many talk about how important it is to offer thanks to the plants we use, to approach them with my friend's reverence and respect, to ensure that they remain abundant (for more on this work, please see United Plant Savers if you haven't already). But although I often approach plants with the attitude that I am a grateful recipient of their power and wisdom, I also have to remember that they get a lot out of our work with them, too. Some, like burdock or plantain, yarrow or red clover, love us so much that when we leave, they start to weaken and disappear too. Herbalists are connectors that bring life and love to both sides of the human-plant relationship. It's an age-old tale.

It reminds me of a little piece I wrote a long time ago. I dug it out this morning (hand-written stuff needs to be hand-searched). Forgive the poor poetry - it represents an honest sentiment.

Herbal medicine is like the seasons, true -
disperse, heat, harvest, crystallize -
but what the plants prefer is the analogy
to see the human point of view. They want to feel
as much as we do
and I believe we heal their souls: we send their seed
to fertile land, black and well-tilled,
rich and smelling of deep loam;
we call their spirits out, in the glades
where, wild, they whistle through the wood;
we prepare them,
painstakingly,
moving their breath to effect good.
In all this, we wonder at how well
the herb has fit into the whole design:
like this, like that, Nature and our Essence
seem to map each others' paths. This wonder
keeps us strong, and there is no greater cure for our kind.
But where we admire the content, a flower
holds the structure dear: it gains strength
from being compared, related, applied and synergized:
the course to herbal medicine is clear!

Old skills and gratitude

In the hills north of Montpelier, Vermont a small group of folks (some of them are herbalists too, studying at our school) are teaching skills humans have possessed for a long, long time. The Roots School instructors have been mastering tracking, tool-making, weapon-crafting, fire-summoning, fiber-spinning, hide-tanning and more (see it all here: http://www.rootsvt.com/skills).

Many people are interested in these traditional approaches to meet the basic needs of life. Why is this? Does learning this stuff have any inherent value?

First off, taking the example of stone knives and spears, it would seem that we've had these skills for a very, very long time. Most recently, Jayne Wilkins of the University of Toronto dated spear tips from South Africa to 500,000 years ago. Along with running (I'm biased) and cooking (so reliant on fire-making magic), these skills might actually be a defining element of what makes us human.

Stone knife - ROOTS School

Stone-tipped spears, South Africa. Photo: Jayne Wilkins

While these technologies are definitely more environmentally conscious, it is not a given that they don't have consequences on our ecology. Take, for instance, the plight of the woolly mammoths and their feelings about these spears. Or look at Ireland - humans deforested the island, and may also have created a fossil fuel reserve - peat - thereby. So I don't think we can clearly state that these skills are somehow valuable because they don't "adversely" impact the world around us. Very often, they do - and this impact can locally rival that of our modern technologies.

So maybe a clear line can't be drawn: technology is simply technology. Or is it?

Before getting a litter deeper into the value of primitive technologies, it's worth thinking about why, at the very least, we shouldn't abandon them completely. There is obvious historical and anthropological value to retaining some of these abilities - it would be a shame, for instance, if we forgot how to track animals through the wilderness (even though, ostensibly, we don't actually need to do that anymore). But beyond this, there is another reasons why institutions such as the Roots School are useful: primarily, the tools work. Pants made from tanned leather last a really long time and protect really well. Stone knives are super-sharp and useful for a variety of jobs. Bows make excellent hunting and fishing tools. Additionally, all these crafts are not somehow less "sophisticated" than gore-tex, metal carbide, or rifles. It often takes more skill and know-how to make a really excellent primitive tool than it does a modern one, and it can take a lifetime to learn all the intricacies. An expert flint-knapper has spent more time on her craft than a Ph.D. has spent on theoretical physics. So at the very least, I am grateful that someone has gone to the trouble to preserve these skills for us as a species.

But I'd have to go further, and say that traditional skills have their own inherent value as stand-alone disciplines, not simply as historical artifacts. It's interesting to me that this older tech uses an interface between our human "wetware" and its surrounding ecology that is straightforward, minimally processed, and manual-labor-intensive. That is to say, primitive skills rely on natural materials and human hands, and are based (by necessity) on a broad understanding of the ecology and its patterns to be successful. Modern technologies often rely on refined materials transported over long distances and the use of intermediate machinery. So the big difference, I think, is the degree to which the tools we use are abstracted from our daily experience: children quickly grasp how a stone knife is made (though actually making it is a lot tougher), whereas understanding a circular saw is trickier. Again, this doesn't mean the knife is less sophisticated. It simply has a more direct story. Its complexity lies in skill depth, rather than theoretical specificity. I am very grateful that someone still knows how to take a simple process and spend a long, long time exploring it with their hands and bodies.

If you compare a martial art and a gun, the distinction becomes unarguably clear. They are both complicated tools, but in very different ways. Both can kill - but it takes a lot longer to learn how by studying a martial art than it does by studying firearms. This is the tradeoff. What you sacrifice in time to learn the skill you gain in ethos, which is part of depth. It seems that we value technology differently when it is directly understandable, minimally processed, and labor-intensive. That different valuation connects to greater involvement, empowerment, and responsibility. We stop doing things by proxy. The process associated with the use of a technology becomes as important as the tool it creates, or the outcome it engenders. It's about the journey, not the destination. It's about how you play the game.
Herbalism, of course, represents the primitive skill of medicine. It has all the qualities we've explored: it's something a child can quickly understand, uses crude natural materials, and relies on individual labor (even if you're using ready-made tinctures or teas, the process of choosing them takes a long time. And the client has to do a lot of work to use them - relatively speaking). It changes our environmental ethos (shifting the perception of what to do with weeds, for instance). It is focused on process at all levels, though it still provides useful outcomes. For all these reasons, it is a valuable technology in the context of human health and, as with other primitive skills, cannot be dismissed as obsolete. I am most grateful to be a part of the tribe that has held and cultivated herbal medicine, and that I get to use this skill in my life every day. What a blessing.

Ultimately, old tech is different, and for some interesting (though not immediately obvious) reasons. When dealing directly with the messy, organic system of the human being and her surrounding environment, old tech might actually still be the better choice. When considering abstraction, verbal communication, neocortex-intensive-applications (which are by definition a bit more removed from the wet organic mess around and inside us), modern tech seems to shine. But when we approach old processes, like the workings of vital organs, the key to optimal, meaningful function is turned by old tech. Musicians (and vinyl enthusiasts) know this. Stonemasons know this. Many visual artists do as well. I am hopeful that our culture will take the lessons of primitive skills, including herbal medicine, as directions on our trail towards the future, towards progress. And I am grateful that any such trail will most likely be lined with dandelions.

Excerpts from Carmina Gadelica

Around the turn of the 20th century, Alexander Carmichael collected poems, hymns and incantations from the Scottish highlands into a six-volume compendium that includes both (extensive) Christian and Pagan verses. The digitized edition of Volume II includes a number of gems, with facing text in the original Gaelic. Here are some excerpts:


THE YARROW
I will pluck the yarrow fair
That more benign shall be my face
That more warm shall be my lips
That more chaste shall be my speech
Be my speech the beams of the sun
Be my lips the sap of the strawberry

May I be an isle in the sea
May I be a hill on the shore
May I be a star in the dark time
May I be a staff to the weak

Wound can I every man
Wound can no man me



SAINT JOHN'S WORT
Saint John's wort Saint John's wort
My envy whosoever has thee
I will pluck thee with my right hand
I will preserve thee with my left hand
Whoso findeth thee in the cattle fold
Shall never be without kine


THE CLUB MOSS
The club moss is on my person
No harm nor mishap can me befall
No sprite shall slay me no arrow shall wound me
No fay nor dun water nymph shall tear me


THE SHAMROCK OF LUCK
Thou shamrock of good omens
Beneath the bank growing
Whereon stood the gracious Mary.
The seven joys are,
Without evil trace,
On thee peerless one
Of the sunbeams:
  Joy of health
  Joy of friends
  Joy of kine
  Joy of sheep
  Joy of sons and Daughters fair
  Joy of peace
  Joy of God

The four leaves of the straight stem
Of the straight stem from the root of the hundred rootlets
Thou shamrock of promise on Mary's Day,
Bounty and blessing thou art at all times.

Kevin Spelman - molecular bio of immunomodulators

From the AHG symposium

Immunomodulators: botanical medicines that through the dynamical regulation of informational molecules alter the activity of the immune systems.

Cytokines and the cytokine theory of disease (Czura, CJ 2005): overproduction of cytokines can cause the clinical manifestations of disease. But it can begin on an emotional level (anger/shame as opposed to medidative states) - then as cytokines levels increase, disease manifests: first depression, pain, anorexia. Then, psoriasis, colitis. Then, tissue damage and arthritis. Finally, shock and organ failure.

Tumor necrosis factor (TNF) and other cytokines like Epidermal Growth Factor stimulate a series of intracellular changes that ultimately have effects in the nucleus - on genetic expression. When, in researching botanicals, we look at the nucleus, we're getting somewhere.

Paul Ridker MD 2002: "It may be possible that having a high cytokine response in our evolutionary past served us well, when our lifespan was 35-40 years. Insulin resistance might have been useful (to prevent starvation). Not so anymore."

The effect of cytokines depends on the cell secreting it (lymphocytes, monocytes, etc) and the physiological context in which they are secreted. They are "immune hormones". Subtypes:
-interleukins, which have profound effects on inflammation, immunity, central nervous systems, hormone secretions (esp. ACTH, corticoids), they drive antibody response.
-interferons, which are the first line of defense against viruses. They are also cytotoxic, disrupt sleep and HPA axis, stimulate fever-like response.
-colony stimulation factors, which affect cell motility and proliferation, wound healing, inflammation, and hematopoiesis
-chemokines, which stimulate chemotaxis, immune function, inflammation.

Cytokines are versatile. They have different roles, redundancy, synergy and antagonism, and can be autocrine, paracrine, or systemic in their actions. Cytokine receptors are membrane bound, though some are freely floating and act as an activating complex. They are secreted and produced for short periods of time, with little storage and tight regulation of production, and super-short half-lives - "like fireflies".
Normal physiologic functions that induce cytokine production are sleep (to repair/renew) and ovulation. Production in healthy tissue is minimal. Microbial infection, other cytokines, stress, corticoids, histamine all stimulate cytokines as well. "This is why hayfever can actually make you feel really sick".

We are attempting to exploit cytokines pharmacologically. Stimulate, inhibit, block, activate. Herbal medicines have been doing this for a long time. For example, now we use interferon for hepatitis, melanoma, lymphoma. TNF-alpha inhibitors are used for rheumatoid arthritis. Interleukins and interleukin inhibitors are used for asthma modulation, to reduce the risk of Alzheimers.

What about further, bigger thinking on cytokine use? They're implicated in all chronic, age-related, inflammatory diseases. They travel broadly throughout the body. They may also have huge behavioral effects (if we buy in to the psycho-neuro-immunology - PNI - model). Why do we get grumpy when we have the flu? Cytokines. But the behavior also isolates us, separating us from the herd, to protect our peers from infection.
Liver, heart, vessel walls, and adipose tissue all produce cytokines, and may contribute to the etiology of cardiovascular disease. The liver is dear to herbalists - for so many good reasons.
Diseases such as anorexia, schizophrenia, depression, Alzheimer's all show high plasma levels of cytokines. These can be directly measured (though the tests are expensive right now). What we still need clarity on is defining the normal range (which right now is super-wide). Maybe we can get there through genetic medicine, by refining the "normal" depending on genome. Herbalists, however, have always had a good differentiating tool: the constitution. Perhaps pitta people, for instance, exhibit higher "normal" ranges of cytokines.

Adhesion molecules (cellular adhesion molecules - CAMs) are immunoglobulin superfamily CAMs (IgSF - CD-x cell surface receptors), integrins, cadherins, selectins. They are involved in embryonic development, neuro development, tissue adhesion, and expressed by leukocytes, platelets, epithelial and endothelial cells. They maintain tissue integrity, and recruit cells to tissues. They have a critical role to play in pathology, cancer. There are higher levels in those at risk for heart attacks. They may also be involved in behavior - though the research is preliminary (Walzog, B 2000).
The conformation of adhesion molecules - extended versus bent - has an important role to play in the ability of adhesion molecules to function.
Adhesion molecules are important in inflammation - for example, p-selectins expressed on the endothelium sticks to sugars on white blood cell membranes and get snagged there. Then, integrins on white blood cells actually cause the WBC to stop, so it can engage in diapedesis (move across the vessel wall). In the wrong conditions, with too much inflammation, this leads to plaque formation in the vessel wall - atherosclerosis. It may also be important in perpetuating inflammation in autoimmune disease.

Next, nitric oxide (NO) starts to be produced. It is a free radical, second messenger, paracrine, vasodilative, neurotransmitter, and hormone. Signal molecule in the vasculature, neurons and immune system. It can act within the cell, moves through water and fat, and readily diffuses. It's synthesized from arginine (sister amino acid to lysine - they are in counterbalance to each other) using nitric-oxide-synthases. Interestingly, arginine levels are high in veg protein (peanuts, e.g.) and lysine high in animal protein.
The enzyme nitric-oxide-synthase is the key intervention point. It needs cofactors: NADPH, FAD, FMN (all based on B-vits) all linked by a calmodulin binding site [note from Guido: calmodulin found in, and stimulated by, milky oats]. Eventually, NO activates smooth muscle cAMP which relaxes the muscle.
Another important NO stimulating factor (through eNOS activation) is shear stress on the endothelium: often caused by high blood pressure.
NO not only leads to vasorelaxation, but also decreases platelet aggregation.
iNOS, which is created on an as-needed basis, often comes from macrophages when they are activated. So extra NO is produced when needed by immune cells! This vasodilates, sure, but NO is also a free radical that the immune players "shoot out" to damage invaders. Unfortunately, though, it can also damage us. Interferon is often the cytokine that gets iNOS going by activating iNOS gene expression.
nNOS (neuronal-nitric-oxide-synthase) is stimulated through a glutamate-sensitive NMDA receptor. The nitric oxide produced as a result enhances memory and learning. It's crucial for this purpose.

When NO is broken down, it produces superoxide ions, nitrates, and perhaps also peroxinitrites (ONOO-) which has been implicated as a cause of chronic fatigue syndrome (cf. Pall). It's extremely toxic, and will uncouple oxydative phosphorylation in the mitochondria - you can't make ATP anymore! If we remember that, because inflammation can come from infection, inflammation, or emotion, NO can come from a variety of causes, chronically elevated levels can lead to profound fatigue.
"We should be looking at the common molecular basis for disease, rather that all these different disease labels. This is part of the future of medicine".

THE HERBS:
Angelica sinensis: inhibits adhesion molecules, reduces iNOS
Curcuma spp.: modulates adhesion molecules, reduces iNOS. Very pleiotropic. A variety of constituents with multiple countervalent effects - depending on cell type and physiological context.
Echinacea purpurea: countervalent effects on cytokines (TNF), interleukins, selectins and iNOS. It has a lot to do with the dose and research model (in vitro) presenting different conditions. Also, extraction has a huge role to play: European products, for instance, often have low alkylamide content.
Ginkgo biloba: inhibits adhesion molecules, reduces iNOS.

Spelman - 2008: Modulation of Cytokine Expression by Traditional Medicines

Lisa Ganora - synergy in botanical medicines

From the AHG Symposium

The scientific research process makes it difficult to research more than a small handful of chemicals at a time. Considering that, by some estimates, botanicals contain up to 10,000 active constituents, scientific research runs up against a limit very quickly. Fortunately, we have a practical use history to turn to: we've been eating these plants for a long time with no harm.

Polymolecular approaches, which rely on synergy, have a unique ability to interface with the complex biological system of the human being. Plants provide this. Huge difference compared to pharmaceutical agents. Additionally, pharmaceuticals are very new on the scene. And most aren't cheap (whereas plants...)

Vitalism: boiled down by Paul Bergner, "Nature is Smarter". Case in point: digoxin in foxglove. When consumed alongside other foxglove chemicals, overdoses cause nausea and vomiting. When digoxin is purified, it loses that "warning sign". Molecules are like people: we behave differently in different situations. You're not going to behave in the same way at church with grandma as you do at the corner bar. Another example: "when embedded in a phytochemical matrix with companion molecules, ascorbic acid can behave differently ... this is antioxidant synergy". Ascorbic acid + Iron, on the other hand, is a strong oxidative agent.

Plants are chemistry's dynamic matrix. Dynamic is key. Always changing, always adapting, always efficient! This variability can seem to be a source of difficulty, of confusion. But herbalists can get a handle on the overall balance of botanical chemistry through organoleptic (sense-based) assays. [Guido's note: I really feel that human intuition is an expression of an interaction between complex living systems. That is to say, when we intuit that a plant is ready to harvest and will be useful, we are drawing on the sum total of our organoleptic assay, environmental awareness, memory, and need and coming up with a synthesis that determines usefulness. Our physiology (brain included) is a great pattern-recognition system that can be drawn upon to do complex, "fuzzy" calculations in near-real time... but only if we let the rational side go].

Co-evolutionary theory underlies the development of complex phytochemical matrices - and extends to humans as well. As people develop relationships with plants, we select for each other.

Types of synergy: potentiating (enhanced activity), stabilization (protect certain constituents), modification (attenuation of toxicity). Side note - "just because there's a known toxic constituent in a plant doesn't mean that plant will be toxic. I ate comfrey as a vegetable when I was pregnant. Modification synergy at work".

St. Johnswort is a great example of a plant that only works through potentiating synergy. Isolation of an active ingredient has consistently failed. Hyperforin, hypericin, xanthones, hyperoside, melationin and more all work together [Guido's note: Ginseng is another great example. We still can't point out an active constituent].
Clinical note: consider mixing your concentrated extract (St. Johnswort, Ginkgo, Milk Thistle, Turmeric, etc...) with a little powdered whole herb, tea, tincture or other crude prep. Take advatage of synergy.

Potentiating synergy types: affecting stability / reactivity of different constituents; increasing bioavailability; chemicals can be co-ligands of a receptor; one compound might inhibit enzymatic breakdown of another chemical.

An example of stabilizing synergy is the process of "redox cycling": botanical antioxidants re-activate one another and prevent pro-oxidant activity. Way more effective than eating isolated, single antioxidants (vitamin c, or quercetin, e.g.). There are well over 60 types of citrus bioflavonoids in a fruit, along with carotenoids or vitamin c.
This might underlie an interesting observation about carotenoids: 20mg/day trans-beta-carotene over 5-8 years to 29K smokers / drinkers actually led to 18% more lung cancer. When taken with Vit. E, no change in lung cancer rates. If they simply ate a high-carotenoid diet, there was less lung cancer (NEJM 1994; 330:1029-35).

Dandelion flowers are a great example of phytochemical synergy. They contain a cocktail of carotenes (beta and other). Also xanthophylls (lutein, cryptoxanthin). Flavonoids (luteolin, quercetin and their glycosides). Phenylpropanoids  - simple plant acids such as caffeic and chlorogenic acids. Triterpenes such as taraxasterol. Bitter sesquiterpene lactones. Some are oily, some watery. Taken together, they are anti-cancer, antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, and neuroprotective - but only when eaten as WHOLE dandelion flowers.

Black pepper (and its alkaloid piperine) is another example of synergy, but one where synergy relies on affecting endogenous (inside us) processes and thereby potentiating the activity of other phytochemicals. Piperine increases absorption and delays breakdown of many oil-based plant constituents. This has long been known in Ayurveda, where Trikatu is added to lots of formulas.

Oregon grape root is a great story of synergy. Its root contains lots of berberine, which is antibacterial and strongly inhibits Staph aureus. However, Staph uses a multi-drug-resistance pump (P-glycoprotein) that ejects the berberine to try to counteract its toxicity. But in the leaf of Oregon grape has 5'-MHC-D and pheophorbide-A which inhibit the multi-drug-resistance pump. Moral of the story: great synergy, but take a whole-plant preparation! (Stermitz, 1999)

Attenuation of toxicity is often seen in traditional polyherbal preparations. For example, Licorice markedly buffers the toxicity of prepared Aconite (monkshood) root.