Putting us back together

a month with comfrey

There is a strangeness to spending a month with a herb that cannot be taken internally. Cannot? An extraordinary tissue-healing herb, he contains pyrrolizidine alkaloids (associated with liver toxicity) so currently EU (and other places) restrict it to external use.

Certainly he is a knitting herb, so I’d be wary of applying him where there is infection, pus, puncture, or anything that needs to drain before it needs to close and rebuild. I’d avoid comfrey in pregnancy, breastfeeding or with young children. And also with anyone who has liver disease, a high alcohol burden, or is taking hepatotoxic medications.

But ‘cannot’? There is a tension here between traditional herbal knowledge, toxicology, and regulations that may be over-anxious. Comfrey (Symphytum officinale) has a long history of internal and external use as a wound, bone, gut and tissue herb.

knitbone

boneset

consoude (from consolidare — to make solid)

Pyrrolizidine alkaloidscan absolutely damage the liver and in comfrey they are much more concentrated in root than leaf. But the current blanket ban was shaped by studies and assumptions that rely on high-dose animal models, often using isolated alkaloids with no distinction between root and leaf, no nuance about concentration or the length of time something might be taken.

I cannot advocate internal use, but comfrey reminds me how our confidence in plant allies can be reshaped by privileging a very particular kind of evidence that does not read plants through pattern, preparation, dose, timing, part used, experience… That reaches instead for worst-cases, isolated constituents, huge generalisations… Comfrey tells us something of the story we currently live in and asks us if there might be another story.

A plant of containment, consolidation and closure has effectively been boundaried and contained i our modern world, but he will still walk beside us. His power to knit, moisten, soothe and restore tissue continues.

A member of the Boraginaceae family, like Borage, the parts traditionally used are leaf and root. Comfrey is cooling and hydrating. A herb that rebuilds what is broken, including bone and works on knitting wounded tissue. In a world that needs putting back together, that is deeply wounded and often incoherent to the point of overwhelm, comfrey offers a different story: coaxing tissues and bodies towards cohesion.

He is a plant of mucilage, minerals, damp earth, bone-memory, cellular repair — a green, mineral, ancestral poultice herb. Comfrey’s healing is dense and inward. He seals and restores. He’s not a herb that moves lymphs or clears ground, but one who rebuilds. This makes him wonderful when tissue needs deep nourishment and repair, but always with the caution to ensure inflammation is first resolved, open wounds are closed, before he takes action.

He is immensely soothing to dry, rough, bruised, strained or previously damaged tissue where the skin is intact or fully closed, but needs moistening and strengthening. An excellent support for old injuries or for bony or connective-tissue that is weak and needs support. Tissues that feel frayed, torn, pulled, bruised, depleted, joints and bones that ache, tendons that are sprained, soft tissue that is bruised — all will thank you for comfrey.

Close, knit, seal, restore, comfrey whispers.

His vulnerary and tissue-healing action comes from both calming mucilage and from allantoin and mineral-rich constituents. The leaves are thick and soft, a good sign of his moistening quality, making him lovely in compresses, infused oil or balms. He is astringent and toning, but not drying, his tannins drawing tissues together, but balanced by his succulent nature. It tones and consolidates more than it dries.

Each evening I use an oil on the joints that lupus inflames, most often my right knee — comfrey and daisy infused oils with essential oils of wintergreen (in a tiny amount) and black pepper.

A balm or salve of comfrey is wonderful for gardener’s hands, dry patches of skin, closed bruises, minor strains. Fresh leaves make wonderful compresses — moist, green and cooling. And leaves occasionally added to a foot soak will refresh tired, dry, overworked feet.

He pairs beautifully with

calendula where some lymphatic movement and brightness are also needed

marshmallow or rosehip infused oil where dryness and irritation dominate and more softness is needed

yarrow for bruising provided that dryness is not a problem

St John’s wort oil for bruised, tender, zinging tissue, provided skin is intact and taking care in summer when St John’s Wort’s photosensitivity can be an issue

lavender where there is tension, pain and irritation

rosemary where cold, stiff, chronically injured joints need warming movement (though not where tissue is hot and inflamed).

In many traditions, comfrey is associated with protection during travel, perhaps because a plant of bones and sprains becomes a charm for safe passage.

A herb of earth and water, he is not an airy meadow flower. He is low, heavy, damp and rooted, belonging to the places where water gathers and soil is rich. He loves a damp ditch, a riverbank. He holds water and nourishment that makes a strong (and smelly!) fertiliser — water in his leaves, minerals in his bones. A herb of deep care.

Comfrey remembers wholeness, calls the scattered edges home. His gift is profound and to be timed with care and respect. He relies on us to ask: Is this ready to be mended?

Comfrey’s folklore is built around mending, binding, knitting and making whole. The Latin root of ‘comfrey’ seems to be ‘to grow together’. The botanical name Symphytum has a Greek root also associated with ‘growing together’ or ‘uniting’.

knitbone

boneset

knitback

consound

consoude

bruisewort

slippery root

blackwort

To grow together. Pause for a moment to think of what that would mean for our world. And for a body — to be put back together: bone to bone, skin to skin, fibres to fibres, the scattered body drawn back into form.

Reuniting in ourselves and with one another.

Soften, mend, hold.

Finding your allies

Each month I meet with a small group of amazing women who are exploring their allies Along the Herbal Path.

We dive deep into an aspect of these companions in the animate world. Sometimes we pause to write, to centre ourselves in quiet meditation. Always we ask questions and make space for one another.

Together with the herbs, we create a little alchemy.

I’d love you to join us. Find out more, including how to join, on the triskelewell page