Paul Stamets, mycologist (mushroom expert) and author states that plants that live in a particular habitat develop their own immune systems. When I read those words I realized that on some level I have sensed this truth ever since I first began to use herbs for healing purposes but I never really thought about it until I read that statement.

However, when I first started using herbs medicinally it seemed important that I gather them from around my house, or in nearby field and forest. I never had an interest in buying herbal preparations or using herbs I couldn’t collect myself.

After reading Paul’s declaration I realized that using an herb from my woods or garden was probably going to be more effective in treating a problem I have because I am already living in a habitat that is sensitized to any potential health problems that might arise with respect to its inhabitants including me, and because I am in direct relationship with my land and the area around me. An “Ah –Ha” moment.

I also noticed that I was drawn to work with some herbs more than others. Some plants ‘called’ to me, and I paid attention to this resonance without understanding why. I used my intuition and other senses to make these decisions even while the doubter droned on. Eventually, the positive results of my use of a particular herb shut the annoying voice up.

Of course, these leanings of mine make little sense unless one predicates them on the belief that all life is interconnected. Today science informs us that there are three kingdoms – fungi, flora, fauna, and that without the help of fungus, no life could have arisen on land.

Cutting edge science demonstrates that all life is interconnected by the net of mycelium that stretches across the earth’s land – mass underground – “the wood wide web”. Mycelium is the vegetative part of fungus. It consists of branching thread –like hyphae that absorb nutrients from the soil and distribute them from one plant to another. As these branches grow they develop new strategies for digestion and distribution – new enzymes, new carbohydrates, new antibiotics. They are constantly learning and adapting. The more I learn about fungi the more I think of this living being (these living beings?) as the mind and body of the earth made visible.

When I studied medicinal plants in the Amazon I learned that these Indigenous people, like me, used the plants that grew naturally in the areas they inhabited and they too made their decisions based on having personal relationships with certain plants, some of which spoke to them. Each healer had an individual garden located in the area in which s/he lived, on the edge of his/her community. Healers in other villages that were located further up the Amazonian tributaries (some were days away by dugout) treated the same ailments using the plants that grew there; some were the same, others were different. All treatments seemed to work, which baffled me until I learned that herbs grown in a specific area would probably benefit the people who lived in direct relationship with that particular piece of land even if the herbs used were were different.

What united me to people of the Amazon, Indigenous peoples, and other country folk like me was that all of us were in reciprocal relationships with plants and a particular place, something many folks in this transient western culture don’t ever experience. I wonder if this isn’t part of the reason we can continue to decimate the earth – a lack of belonging to place? I know lots of people who own houses and property but never develop a personal relationship with their land; they use it instead for their own purposes. Without developing reciprocal relationship does a person remains rootless? Soul-less?

I love my little house, but it was built on land that claimed me the first time I set foot on it in the fog and rain. The visceral sense of belonging slammed through me, leaving me stunned almost senseless. When I came to I can still remember the sounds of water drawing me towards the brook and the red buck with his velvet antlers….

Still, I could have never imagined what is so obvious to me now after living in New Mexico for four winters. I thought I could leave home in exchange for a warmer winter climate, but this land refused to let me go. Although I loved being a desert visitor, I was never able to put down roots.

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