MedicineCrow Blog

I woke in a cloud of lavender fragrance. The birds of Aurel, unlike the nocturnal festival-goers of Lyon, had been up since the first light in the sky, leaving their homes in the tiled roofs of ancient stone houses to soar on the winds streaming up the valley and play in the huge trees. They were more or less the owners of this tiny village, with its mere thirty inhabitants and handful of seasonal visitors.

The aroma of lavender that greeted my emergence from euphoric sleep was not from the fields below, as it was still too early in the season for flowers; it was instead what remained of an essential oil that I had put on our pillows the night before. This oil had been distilled on a farm a few kilometers down the road, from organically grown plants of the variety known as "fine" or "fine population." We had purchased this oil, along with several other species, from a gentleman by the name of Guillame Liardet, the owner of the farm and distillery.

Dear friends:

It is the end of the fourth day of our Mediterranean aromatic tour, and evening has settled over the lavender fields in the rolling hills of Vaucluse. Last night in Lyon it was the crowds of people dining and drinking at the outdoor cafes on cobblestone streets that did not want to go to sleep, tonight it was the birds in the ancient rows of trees along the narrow lanes of Aurel.

Today was the first day that could be considered the real adventure of seeking out the plants, farms and distillers, but there have been many other adventurous stories that came before this one.

This journey was months in the making. Sara did most of the work, spending countless hours organizing the complex itinerary with flights, car rentals, ferries, hotels and meetings with distillers. She was able to successfully make advance preparations for many of the important necessities, but many things simply could not be done until we arrived here.

Dear friends:

A new adventure is about to begin.

Next week, Sara and I will fly to Paris, rent a car, and make a month long journey through the south of France, Corsica and Sardinia, in search of aromatic treasures.

Our itinerary will begin in Provence, where we will spend several days meeting distillers, learning about their farms and essential oil production methods, and purchase new oils for Floracopeia.

Dear friends:

It has been a little over one month since Sara and I returned from our adventures in Ecuador. The trip made a deep impression on us, especially our time with Dante Bolcato, his family, his distillery and the Palo Santo trees.

Now I am driving back to Guayaquil with Eric and Don Perfecto, into an approaching dusk with the ocean on our right. The afternoon had ended abruptly, but it had to be that way as Eric was a man with many responsibilities, and just taking a full day to bring me to Puerto Lopez was a minor miracle and an expression of immense generosity. But enough had happened already to set many future events into motion, events that I was starting to sense were based on some kind of intelligence that manifested itself as meaningful coincidence, a synchronicity that seemed to emanate from a tree of great power.

We follow Dante through the village along rutted dirt roads, into a neighborhood on the outskirts of town where the homes have more land, more space, more greenery, less open sewage.

The doctor owns the side of a hill, which he is transforming into a gigantic sculpture. Walkways wind through courtyards, courtyards sit among small cottages, cottages are adorned with gardens, gardens are layered on terraces, terraces curve along the contours of the hill. In the center of this asymmetrical mandalic landscape rises a structure that looks like a hybrid between a tipi and a conch shell, part cone, part spiral. Partly adobe, partly glass, partly tree trunks, this is his home, his castle, his dream of a new life, adorned with a spectacular view of the ocean below.

Now I am driving with Eric and Don Perfecto Yagual along the coastal highway to the fishing village of Puerto Lopez. We are on the way to meet Dante, an Italian who speaks neither English nor Spanish, who seems to be the one who distilled the oil. I spoke with Michele, his assistant, when we called from James's house that afternoon in Guayaquil; he spoke enough English and I enough Spanish that we managed to make arrangements to visit.

Now I am in Ecuador. Nine months have passed since our gathering on the beach. I am here at the invitation of Eric Horstman, a man who has committed himself to the formidable task of protecting one of the country's largest remaining tropical dry forests and its disappearing flora and fauna from the encroachment of Guayaquil, a city of millions of humans needing food and fuel every day.

I am on the beach at Mahabalipuram, under the night sky. A strong wind is blowing off the Bay of Bengal, carrying warm marine fragrances and spraying sand in the eyes of a small group seated around a fire. We are devotees of Ayurveda, gathered at a conference devoted to the ancient medical art and science. A few Western teachers have been invited to speak to the Indian students, eager to hear of the possibilities their own traditions may hold for them as a career, as a source of respect, as a way of serving, as a path to knowledge; a tiny minority of Western students, most of them now seated just out of reach of the flames, are here to learn from the Indian doctors who are sharing their methods and wisdom.

Dear friends:
Many of you are familiar with the stories I have told about my first journey to Ecuador six years ago, and the many synchronistic events that led to my meeting the man who distills the Palo Santo oil for Floracopeia; many of you are familiar with the oil itself, but perhaps have not heard these stories yet.

The end of each year brings the temptation to predict the next. This coming year in particular, with the approaching conjunctions of untenable political, unsustainable economic and uncontrollable ecological trends, the increasingly outrageous madness of so-called leaders and those who follow on display for everyone else, the overwhelming forces of whirlwinds that we are now collectively reaping, and the portending astronomical calculations of an ancient human-sacrificing culture, make 2012 a uniquely apocalyptic future to ponder, with all the potential victories, freedoms and joys that such a cataclysmic time might offer. Here, then, is my own list of prophesies, predictions, probabilities and presciences.

David Crow

An End of the Year Message from David Crow
(Completed at midnight on Christmas Eve)

I am comfortable on my meditation cushion, wrapped in the silent darkness and shining constellations of winter Solstice.

Many wise teachers have shared their contemplative practices with me, but there is one practice I come back to more than the others: listening to the heart. No one taught me this, however; I discovered it myself, which is like saying I discovered that I am breathing. So many spiritual insights are like this, yet we think illumination somehow lies outside the fabric of our own being.

I am listening to the pulsation of my heart. Join me…it is easy and very profound. My right thumb is resting on the radial artery of my left wrist, where the pulse rises and falls.

The artery undulates as the waves of nutrient fluid pass through it. If we listen attentively, the wandering mind will gradually become calm and steady, and in this flowing together of heart and awareness there are many revelations waiting to be known.

The Poetic Truth
of Our Biological Existence

Creativity is a fascinating process. At times I have found it to be like an ephemeral breeze, floating here and there without any apparent cause as I walk through the forest searching for its inspiration or sit in silent contemplation hoping it will alight nearby and bless me with an outpouring of thoughts, words and insights. Sometimes it is like moving between waking and dreaming, or descending into the embryonic cavernous space that births mythology, hoping to bring something back that doesn’t evaporate into forgetfulness in the light of day, or worse, reveal the triviality of my mind. Sometimes, it seems more like a river that moves with its own rhythm and direction, appearing and disappearing as it will through the course of days or seasons, sometimes with some rhyme or synchronistic reason but most often without.

David Crow Interviews Phil Goldberg, Author of "American Veda"

Last month I had the pleasure of meeting with a fellow writer who I had not seen for many years, and interviewing him about his latest book.

Phil Goldberg is one of those writers that I admire, not only because most of his work has been related to the field of consciousness, spirituality and natural healing, but simply because of the sheer volume of material that he has produced. Having spent ten years writing “In Search of the Medicine Buddha,” and having spent another ten years since writing a sequel that is still not completed, it strikes me as an immense accomplishment to be able to write not just one book, but twenty-three. I have great respect for anyone who can do this, not only because of the high level of self discipline it reveals, but because of the cumulative knowledge and wisdom that one gains from doing so.

Reflections on the
Grassroots Healthcare Revolution

Part 3:

One of the fundamental concepts that William and I have emphasized in the Farm to Pharmacy series is the importance of having simple herbal gardens at home as the basis of grassroots healthcare. As our starting point, we identified about thirty species that meet the following criteria: easy to grow in most parts of the U.S., relatively safe and nontoxic, possessing a wide range of therapeutic benefits, and easy to incorporate into a home pharmacy and herbal lifestyle. The lectures, plant identification and medicine making workshops revolved around becoming familiar with these important plants. It is our belief that if families know how to incorporate these herbs into simple kitchen medicines and basic home remedies, as they once commonly were, that a vast amount of unnecessary toxic medications could be avoided and general immunity and health levels in the population increased.

Reflections on the
Grassroots Healthcare Revolution

Part 2:

In addition to learning plant identification, each intensive also taught us about the growing habits of different species. As we toured the gardens and learned to recognize each plant, we also began to understand why it liked that particular place on the farm. Even within the small four acres on a gentle slope we discovered numerous miniature ecosystems, which William had either developed or exploited to maximize growing conditions, allowing him to cultivate many species that would not otherwise thrive in the Northeast.

Reflections on the
Grassroots Healthcare Revolution

Part 1:

One week ago William Siff and I completed teaching the fall season intensive at Goldthread Herb Farm. It was the sixth week-long program that we had done together, which included spring, summer and fall this year and last. It was again a unique and memorable event, filled with shared learning, healthy work with the healing plants and a sense of restoring and creating something precious and meaningful for our society. It was also a time to reflect on what we had accomplished, and where the program might evolve to next.

Last week we had the pleasure of visiting Deb Soule at her beautiful herb farm and apothecary, Avena Botanicals.  I had just finished teaching the Farm to Pharmacy week with William Siff at Goldthread Farm in Massachusetts and a weekend class in Portland, Maine, hosted by Gina Mastroluca. Gina had made arrangements in advance for us to make the trip north to visit Deb outside of Rockport.