Herbarium

The botanists at the Botanic Gardens had been annoyed with me for months. Any plant I came across that looked interesting, I’d bring to them asking what it was. It didn’t take them long to ID the plants I brought them but they weren’t very welcoming to my presence. I started showing up once a week, and soon once a week became twice a week. The first plant they ever identified for me was a clipping from a bush growing in my front yard called “Rue”. They told me that the scientific name was Ruta graveolens and that at one time it was considered medicinal. I found out after doing some research that the plant had a gentle antispasmodic function and could ease cramping and spasms in muscles. I found this to be incredibly fascinating. I never looked at plants the same way after that. My mind concluded that all of the plants in my area were worth investigating. I decided to gather wild weeds regularly to have them identified by the experts.

One day I came into the Herbarium with a bunch of ugly partially dry weeds dangling from my hands. One botanist looked at me and said,

“Why?”

“Why what?” I asked

“Why are you here again?”

“Well” I said. “I want to know what these plants are.”

“Why does that matter to you?”

“Well, I don't know. They just call to me I guess...” I was caught off guard by the question.

“Look you’re a nice guy and all. We just don’t think you should come here anymore.”

I left sadly. I thought that they would be excited by my enthusiasm. But instead they treated me like a small child who hadn’t learned that they were just plants. Plants to be Identified and stored away. They told me that if I wanted to have more plants identified that it would cost me 40 bucks for each plant ID. I told them that I was fine with that price but that only seemed to annoy them more. I stopped going. I didn’t want to be where I wasn’t welcomed. I needed to be where people were just as excited to be around plant life as I was.

Shelley Torgove was different. A friend told me to find at her herbal apothecary called “Artemisia and Rue.” I showed up with a bunch of plants dried weeds in my hands. The space was a beautiful place full of huge jars filled with leaves, flowers and roots of various colors. While I walked around the clean shop I‘d unknowingly left a trail of dried leaves and flower crumbs wherever I walked. When Shelley saw me looking so helpless with my batch of dried and dying plant material, her serious face turned soft as she chuckled at my innocence.

“Hey man, I’m not sure what all those plants are, but you can certainly come on the next herb walk with me.”

I took Shelley up on that offer and there I was in the wild among the plant medicines. Shelley led myself and a bunch of students through groves of trees, over mountains and into a world of plants like I had never known.

“What is that plant over there?”

I pointed to a small bush with leaves that looked like a small sharp leafy saw blade. Its blue little berries looked as if they’d been dipped into white powder and dusted off.

“Oregon Grape.”

“Oh wow! Oregon Grape…” I was so proud to know another medicinal plant. Oregon Grape burnt its way right into my memory as I continued to follow Shelley on the path. Her energy was like a puma. Quiet and close to the earth. She was truly in tune with her instincts. I could hear her silence louder than her words. The fire storms happening in her strong mind created an energy that was magnetic for me.

I also made a few new friends. One of them was a young woman that I really felt comfortable opening up to about my enthusiasm for plants. She said that if I really enjoyed the one-day plant walk as much as it seemed, I should join Shelly’s next full round of the program. She said that I’d be a good fit.

Unfortunately I quickly learned that Shelly’s program was way out of my price range. So instead I later purchased a book from her shop called Medicinal Plants of the Mountain West by Michael Moore. I also purchased a little black book on which to take herb notes and draw helpful plant doodles as I continued to add to my knowledge base. I drove home super excited to open my new book to read more about plants I saw that day. The thought of being able to heal my family members with herbal medicines really spoke to me.

My daughter couldn’t stand hospitals and I hated how much money we had to spend just for the doctor to send us home with very little help at all.

One early afternoon on the way to my day job at the recreation center. I drove past a huge gathering of people at City Park. The energy was electric. I pulled over and watched the long lines of people still entering the park from all directions. The lines converging into one large moving center like the middle of a hurricane. I called out to a woman walking past me.

“Hey!” I yelled.

“Hi!” She said cheerfully.

“Where is everyone going?”

“To see Obama! He’s giving a speech down there!”

I’d never heard Obama speak in person before. Through attending this rally, I could get pretty close up to the most popular political figure of my lifetime. This was history in the making. I decided that I should definitely be there.

“Oh! That’s cool! Can just anyone come?”

“No.” She said. “There are no more tickets.”

“Dang. I should’ve been paying attention.” I continued

“Ok, that’s fine. Maybe next time.”

She looked at me for one second long enough to make things awkward.

“You know what?” She said. “Take my ticket.”

“What!? No! I couldn’t…”

“Please…just…” She put the ticket in my hand and walked off.

I found parking minutes later and called the recreation center.

I fake coughed twice and told them I would be in the office when I was feeling better. Calling in sick was the only way to get a spontaneous day off.

I made sure to bring my Michael Moore- Medicinal Plants of the Mountain West book. It looked like I would be in line for several hours.

I’d made up my mind many years ago that I would not be stuck anywhere without a pen and paper and a book. These three items were my keys to infinite freedom. I happily ran into the massive crowded line. I underlined things that jumped out at me in the book as the crowds seemed to push in all around me. The line didn’t even seem to be moving. I’d been standing in one spot for some time when I felt a woman looking over my shoulder.

I looked back.

“Hello…”

“Hi, I noticed you reading a Michael Moore book.”

“Yeah…he’s a smart guy!” I laughed

“I just finished working with Shelley, do you know her?”

“Oh yeah! I went on an herb walk with her!”

“She’s the best! You should go through her full herbalism program!”

“Yeah… I would…but it’s not something I can afford right now…”

I had never been skilled at the art of getting money and I knew that I would probably never be able to afford the course.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She said “I can tell that you’d make a great herbalist.”

“Really!? Wow. Thank you! So what’s your favorite flower?”

I had no idea why I asked that question. When it left my lips it felt quite clumsy actually. Like I had fumbled a football right towards her. If my question was a fumble, she sure picked up that ball and placed it right in her heart. A great shift happened in her at that moment. Her gaze and her cheeks both turned rose colored. Her spirit became soft as rose petal and she appeared totally in love.

“My favorite flower…I’ve always wanted someone to ask me that question.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

There was sharp disturbance in the crowd. Someone started yelling. A group of people started pushing. We were in the center of the action. A huge crowd passed coming from the opposing direction. I was shoved into another man and I dropped my book. I picked up the book and looked around. The woman was gone.

A few weeks later I sat all alone in the computer lab at my rec center job. I opened up my little black notebook and started writing a rhyme called “Medicine Woman”. A rap about a man deeply in love with his Herbal Teacher.

“I’ve got a teacher teaching me this herbal medicine/

She looks like heaven she stay on my mind Excedrin/

I get to learn the secrets from a seasoned veteran/

We study late throughout the night-

David Letterman!”

I laughed, enjoying the cadence produced with my pen. I loved what the rap was becoming. The idea of meeting and falling in love with a wise earthy super nerd made me tingle all over. I kept reading, getting even more passionate as I envisioned her.”

A group of senior citizens walked into the computer lab chatting away as they usually did on Tuesdays at 1PM. Some days, I’d spend the whole hour teaching seniors how to check emails or how to send emails to sons and daughters. Most of them would just pop up from time to time to talk about health issues, grand children, recent deaths, the good old days and God’s goodness.

“How you aint gonna tell me my God is good??” Said the dark skinned woman in the red hat.

“He’s a way maker” said the woman with the hazel eyes who was slowly typing in her email password hoping to not be rejected again.

“Other day, the doctor told me that my hand would have pain in it forever. I looked him right in the eyes and said- ‘The Devil is a lie!” That was Miss Jinn. She was the leader of the batch. “I put some blessed oil on this hand”, she continued “haven’t felt pain sense!”

“What was in that oil Miss Jin?” I asked.

“Rue leaf and prayer son. You always gotta pray over your medicine.”

When the class was finished and everyone left the room, I hopped onto the computer and checked my email. I noticed an email from an address I’d never seen before. I clicked on it and realized that it was from Shelley Torgove, the herbalism teacher. The email said that she’d been looking for me because a former student of hers had come to her and said that she’d met a tall, incredible black man at an Obama rally. She said he carried a Michael Moore book and spoke with such passion about wanting to go deeper into the knowledge of plants. She said the black man asked her what her favorite flower was and it touched her so deeply that she wanted to find this man to contribute 20,000$ to his education.

Shelley told her that she knew exactly who that man was. It was ME. How amazing was that! 20,000 would be more than enough to cover the costs of the classes, materials and even the 2 trips to Mexico to study with Shelley and her teachers, the Mayan Traditional Healers. The email said that all I had to do was fill out an application and I could make the next full round of classes. Things would be different now. No more begging the herbarium to identify plants! I went straight to the website of Shelley the great medicine woman and spilled my heart out all over the essay questions.