a month with motherwort
Leonurus cardiaca is lion-hearted. She fills the heart with lion-courage and signals this in the prickly thorns that surround her soft flowers. There is fire in this courage — look at her leaves — like tongues of flame. But she doesn’t heat the body. Her fire is alchemical — transforming what inflames outwards.
In astrological herbalism she’s a herb of Venus, leading us back to the heart as well as having an affinity with the female reproduction system. She’s a relaxing nervine — linked to a planet that symbolises art, love, sensuality. Porous and open. When the heart is closed, we are out of harmony with ourselves and with others. Motherwort is Venus in Leo (Cardiacus for the heart, Leonurus for the lion), a fire sign — as we saw in her leaves. She cools and calms when fires rage.
Energetically, she is cooling, relaxing, drying. Cooling herbs calm inflamed tissues and raw emotions alike. And motherwort does this by grounding and centring the body, pulling the energy downwards from over-heated tissues.
She is not a tasty tea herb. Motherwort is bitter and bitters are both good for digestion and generally drying. She dries by draining unwanted damp, dispersing sogginess from body tissue as well as from feelings.
We can think of the body as three cauldrons: the gut is the warming cauldron, the heart and throat the middle cauldron and the mind the upper cauldron. Herbs that work with the nervous system have different affinities, some across two or three of these cauldrons, but motherwort is very much a cardiac nervine, When stress causes sweating, high blood pressure, a rapid heartbeat or palpitations, motherwort is a wonderful ally.
As a relaxant nervine she is all about loosening, not toning. She relaxes tension whether in spirit or in muscles and joints; whether in the womb (where she promotes blood flow so she’s not a herb for pregnancy) or in the heart in all its aspects.
There is no better herb to drive melancholy vapors from the heart, to strengthen it, and make a merry cheerful blithe soul, than this herb. therefore the Latins called it Cardiaca.
wrote Nicholas Culpepper in 1652
I have spent the last month with Motherwort. There are herbs that we come to know as our terrain herbs. They suit our constitution so well that often they will call to us even when we have no idea why.
Violet
Rose
Hawthorn
Marshmallow
Calendula
Plantain
Self-heal
Cornflower
Meadowsweet
These are herbs that my body recognises as familiars
Acorus
Cardamon
Angelica
Saffron
Fennel
These are the herbs my body reaches for when it needs extra warmth and spark, when the voice dims, when the core is too cold and the gut sluggish.
I have assembled a constellation of herbs over the last eighteen months. They respond to a terrain that is cool and dry, easily depleted, craves warmth and aromatic lift, but does not tolerate harsh heat or drying. A body that has cycles of inflammatory flares.
How would you describe your terrain?
Motherwort is not a herb that fits my body, but I work with her a lot in helping others find their allies, and I’ve been taking drop doses to know her more fully. For those whose constitutions match her properties, her tincture is a hug in a bottle. For myself, I don’t want to be cooled in such a strong, drying way, but the herbs are as unique as each of us — and generous in their offerings.
Some cooling herbs soothe like water on dry ground — violet, marshmallow, plantain. Some cool by draining excess heat — bitters that work on the liver like dandelion and burdock. Some cool by moving stagnant heat, aiding circulation or lymph. Herbs like calendula or self-heal.
And some, like motherwort, cool deeply by dispersing heat. They are often bitters, in this case driving tension from heart and pelvis. In the right body, this movement restores courage and steadiness where there has been shock. It lightens and loosens.
When she’s a match, motherwort gives an enormous sense of release — tension dropping from the heart or uterus. When she’s a match, she grounds and calms, dispersing unwanted heat, whether in the tissues or emotions.
I have felt her cold run through my body, even in a couple of drops each, and doubt she will ever be a herb I take for the body I am. But I warm to the cool herb more and more as an ally to work with. I’ve heard a voice that cares fiercely. A voice that untangles tension and sings of deep letting go. A voice that a world that clamps and mangles and clenches our hearts surely needs to hear. The voice of a lion-hearted mother.
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.
You are so welcome to join us. Dip in for a month — it’s just £20/€23/$26.
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