a vagal wander through spirit in matter
When we read about emotions described through the senses we find ourselves hooked and immersed. Our response to the world is deeply embodied and we resonate with story that reflects this. So much more than we do with language that is abstract and remote. The body modulates how we experience emotion. So many parts of the body— the brain; the heart, which contains around 40,000 neurons and is also a seat of memory and emotion. And the vagus nerve—the longest nerve of the autonomic nervous system. Involved in everything from heart rate to digestion, from mood to love. As Anne Michaels says in her exquisite novel, Held:
Where else would spirit be but embedded in matter?
The vagus nerve gets its name from the Latin word for ‘wandering,’ and shares a root with ‘vagabond’ and ‘vague’. It wanders through the body from brain to the gut, stopping at every organ along the way. When stimulated, it secretes neurotransmitters: the embodied substance of our thoughts and feelings. And it has two pathways. The ancient dorsal pathway that links to our fear response. And the ventral pathway, which is foundational to connection and communication.
The interaction between these pathways remains contested. But the idea that our bodies as well as emotions respond to trauma is no surprise. In herbal practice, so often people come to clinic with symptoms that have led them round and round without answers for months or years. Some are physical, some more psycho-emotional. And of course symptoms should be checked for other causes, but when no cause emerges too many people find themselves dismissed.
It’s here that the herbs that nurture this wandering nerve — restoring vagal tone — can be supportive. This can be the case with a huge range of disparate conditions. Unexplained earaches, stomach pains, nausea, dizziness, feeling of tightness in the chest, palpitations, visual disturbances, nervousness that seems to have no reason… And for those carrying trauma, the impact on vagal tone can effect how we relate to others… how we handle the risks inherent in daily life … how we fall in love…
Supporting the vagus nerve is a physical act with emotional, psychological and spiritual impact. It is a healing story that transforms fear to safety and abundance. This journey enlists the ventral vagal pathway to tell a different story in which we can dare to be open, connected and expansive. It’s a story of connection. We don’t find safety and wellness alone but in community and relationship.
The poet Adrienne Rich describes the deepest and most healing of these relationships like this:
An honorable human relationship — that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word ‘love’ — is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.
It is important to do this because it breaks down human self-delusion and isolation.
It is important to do this because in doing so we do justice to our own complexity.
It is important to do this because we can count on so few people to go that hard way with us.
On Lies, Secrets, and Silence: Selected Prose 1966-1978
Sadly, Rich is right that finding people to go this hard way with us can be difficult. But this is all the more reason to gather with those who nurture us and who we nurture at every possible opportunity. Some are fortunate to have relationships of deep care and reciprocity in childhood. But for those who have a more difficult or ambiguous start, the story isn’t over. I’ve been doing a lot of reading on mending recently. I love books about darning and restoring beloved old clothes. Ways to mend rather than add to the endless cycles of production and consumption. A darned jumper or blanket handed down generations… a visibly mended shirt… can be more beautiful that the original. The damage doesn’t vanish and nor do human scars, but the more complex story that emerges, tendered and cherished, is real and resilient.
Rest Repair Restore
We find this in nourishing communities. And we find it in the more-than-human world.
Recently, in a beautiful post, Kerri Ní Dochartaigh wrote about recurring images from the natural world. Such an image might be a creature or plant that we are drawn to, a phenonena that carries metaphor for us… I find owls turn up at regular points in my life, currently a tawny owl in the forest garden at the back of our house. And I find community in the company of plants.
Each day, going into the forest is a new conversation. Last year, on a tiny patch of scrubby ground at the entrance to the forest, a little enclave of flowers appeared overnight. There was a profusion of borage, meadowsweet and, magically, tall yellow Welsh poppies. After the October storms this patch was completely devastated by the heavy machinery that went into the woods to extract fallen trees. I thought there would be no growth this year, the ground churned and compacted. But on the last day of June one tall yellow evening primrose sprang up… then more and more.
These delicate-strong flowers felt like a message of home and joy, springing up at the end of period of intense work when I’d pushed myself so hard I was feeling punch-drunk and fragile. This vulnerable-looking flower had risen from a small patch of traumatised ground. And it was the sight I needed to convince me to take some time to rest and repair.
Full circle back to the vagus nerve. The plants that work on vagal tone know that spirit is embedded in matter.
There are aromatic herbs rich in esters, like lavender, chamomile, yarrow and bitter orange… gently powerful where there is tension or shock. Or phenyl methyl ether-rich aromatic plants… fennel… angelica… excellent in small doses to warm and tone…
There are bitter herbs that work in a host of ways… from the gut brain to the heart or supporting the mutlifunctional work of the liver. And each one specific to a particular need. When the vagus nerve is under stress, some people experience cold. Others heat up and some may have a wildly swinging temperature.
Many years ago, I suffered three work-place assaults in short succession. When I finally got away for a break it was a hot July and, burnt out, no amount of heat would warm me. I went to bed under blankets and quilts, shivering. In the following months, my temperature would plummet then soar.
I didn’t know then that warming bitters like angelica and rosemary could have come to my aid. Or that balancing bitters, like wood betony and chamomile, would have offered help with the swinging temperature. I was too burnt out to have any heat but for those whose temperature soars, vervain is a powerful supporter. Bitters work on the heart, the gut, the brain, the liver, the nervous system… The choice of bitter will vary with person and condition — the plants are individuals in condert with individuals.
And in holistic style, a contented heart will have a powerful effect on the vagus nerve. And there are so many excellent herbs of the heart:
hawthorn
passionflower
olive leaf
rose
lemon balm
motherwort
rosemary
fennel
violet
The ally we reach for is a response to temperature, tone, emotion and spirit…
To re-iterate Anne Michaels:
Where else would spirit be but embedded in matter?
Where do you find community that is healing, generous, reciprocal?
Where do you find the moments to rest, repair, restore?