Expectations

Homeopathy is burdened by magical expectations. Patients, students and practitioners often find themselves expecting miracles from the ingestion of a single dose of a remedy. Surely, they hope, this medicine transfused with the essence of a substance could heal the deepest and most troubled aspects of their souls. But what is truly possible? What can we hope for, or expect, from homeopathic medicine?

I have little doubt that in most cases of physical complaints-–eczema, asthma and irritable bowel, for example--homeopathy does quite well. I have seen ‘‘miracles’’ - in the sense that something that was so troubling to a patient, often unmitigated by other treatments for years and years, responds beautifully, and effortlessly, to a homeopathic remedy. These are daily occurrences in my practice.

More serious illness such as cancers, diabetes insipidus or Parkinsons do respond to homeopathic medicine, although the treatment requires more time, patience and skill on the part of the practitioner. The most important contribution of homeopathic medicine is to improve the quality of life, especially in these serious pathologies. This is one of the greatest gifts that homeopathy can provide.

How quickly the body heals is often dependent upon how long the patient has had the complaint, how much suppressive therapy has been given in the past and how strong the patient’s vital force is. Typically, a patient with eczema of 30 years will take longer to heal than the patient whose skin eruption began just 5 years earlier. And the patient who has received years of cortico-steroids will heal less quickly than the one who has had none. Furthermore, the patient who is 20 will generally heal quicker than the patient who is 80. Of course, there are many other factors to be considered, but these are generalities that hold true, in my experience.

But what of the deeper, emotional symptoms that can plague us? Depression, or chronic bitterness and anger, shyness or wild impulsiveness, loneliness and feelings of isolation, or the state of dependency and anxiety. These complaints are usually manifestations of character structure, expressions of the personality, with roots reaching back to earliest childhood. I explain to my patients that there are certain ‘‘symptoms’’ that homeopathy will not change, nor should. We do not want to change the essence of the inner nature of the person; rather we want to help them be their best selves.

For example, I will always be an introvert. That I can become a healthier, freer, and more joyful introvert is a result of some combination of many things: living more consciously and thoughtfully, seeking psychotherapy, and being loved and received. Can a homeopathic remedy change an introvert into an extrovert? I do not think so. Instead, it may free some of the associated impediments, opening a door to greater comfort. But an introvert I will always be, if it is my true nature.

I often see patients with symptoms of depression. Some are a result of family circumstances where there has been serious neglect or abandonment. Others are due to unfortunate life setbacks with work or divorce. Those patients who have a healthy relationship with Eros, and whose depression is more circumstantial do quite well with a homeopathic remedy, which can lift them out of their unhappiness. Those who suffered early from an absence of love, and who feel life offers little pleasure, will not be ‘lifted’ per se, but expanded to embrace Eros and life. But to what extent does a remedy play a part in the patient’s healing-- versus the therapeutic relationship with the homeopath?

I feel these passages or transformations occur in relationship-- not only through the influence of a homeopathic remedy. An eczema or asthma may respond quite well outside of this dyadic influence but these deeper, emotional states require more help. I can easily imagine giving a patient a good remedy for eczema and placing them on a deserted island fully expecting them to get better. But I do not imagine this to be true of the patient who is suffering from depression or from a compulsive disorder. These patients need to be in relationship; they need the relational field to heal.

Let us consider another example. I have treated patients whose relationship to the world is one of irritation and anger-- a feeling that they are ill-treated by the world. I do not expect them to become excessively cheerful or optimistic people with a remedy, but I do expect that through their healing, both from remedy and relationship, that they will understand their responsibility to themselves and others to create changes in their lives. That by loving themselves and loving others, by forgiving themselves and forgiving others, they begin to experience the world as brighter and richer. This occurs because of both influences of the remedy and the relationship.

In addition to these changes I also see a rebalancing as they heal. The angry patient may become more depressed, for a short time, as they realize the pain and suffering they have caused others. The depressed patient may become angry as they shift their self-destructive tendencies towards assertiveness and away from timidity. While the anxious patient may find that depression lies beneath the surface of their distracting worries and fears, these are all temporary swings of the pendulum as the patient rebalances--embracing a healthier tonal quality.

Homeopathy is a magnificent tool for healing - a gentle process that can offer profound relief and that can create a field of support that encircles both the patient and practitioner. When this occurs we do find magic. The magic of restored health.

David's Passing

So many of you have asked about how my friend is, the one mentioned in the blog entry Stepping Into Life. David passed September 9, 2010 and has had several memorials and tributes written for him. I thought I would share mine, published in Homeopathy Today, the newsletter of the National Center for Homeopathy and in the Simillimum, the journal of the Homeopathic Academy of naturopathic Physicians.

Many will write of David’s software contribution, revolutionizing the face of homeopathy so significantly. Others will speak of David’s openness to myriad methods and authors and how this fair-minded and unbiased trait helped to build collaboration in the homeopathic community. And someone else will write of his great love of poetry, rafting and kayaking.

But what I want to pay tribute to is the beautiful way he died. I believe we die as we live and I was deeply touched by the gift of David’s transparency particularly during his first weeks of illness. He would write daily, describing how it felt to be watching death approach. Having been told he may have two weeks to live he felt enlivened by the preciousness of life, and curious about his journey towards death.

David wrote, “I can feel that I am different. …There's space for something new… I just am… filled with light and transparence. This whole process is very strange. Loss of many simple things and a glimpse of vastness. It seems so full of deep tragedy. And magnificence. … I have this time, every day, to see it, [to] keep the door open… appreciate… revel… [and] collapse in it.”

Facing death can uproot all our previous ideas that were safely sheltered by an imagined long life. David continued to examine who he was, finding wonder in life, and marveling at the unknown, as he did through all the years I knew him: “Then I say, seemingly out of the blue, "Am I dying?" and start sobbing - too much mucus, saliva, tongue, incoordination to breathe… am I going to die? … the story to look at now is this one - more than my easier resistance to letting love come close.” I love this admission by him. David wondered many times if he had loved well, if what he had done in this life was valued, which baffled many of us—how surprising, yet poignantly human, that he was uncertain of his gifts we admired and loved so deeply.

One of his last emails posed a question that I now keep close to my own heart:

I am alive and not alive, awake and not awake.

Bright, sudden sparking and dull, gray, isolated, constructed, homogenous, controlled.

Ah, I haven't come alive yet.

Ah

And it is clear these - how many days? - are the end days.

Can I risk coming alive, really alive?

Stepping into Life

A dear friend of mine walked into the emergency room July 2 with a headache and within hours was told he probably had a dozen or so brain tumors. Over the course of the next week those close to him watched in shock and sadness that a once vibrant life was told he may only have a fraction of time left. It is in these moments that we realize how precious life is as it becomes more fragile: the sweetness of a breeze or the brilliant green of an insect seem much more than they did before.

And time has changed as well. Time and opportunity felt endless just the other day and now, suddenly, it feels meteoric. Before I felt I had unbounded time to repair, to do that thing I have been meaning to, to be with those I love, but now I realize I do not know if I will have that time. Everything becomes clear that everything is uncertain. And, for my friend, he wondered if he wasted one of his last days, one of 14, or 30, or... To watch the clock tick so closely could be quite painful.

I waste so many days. I forget how precious they are; sometimes I just want the day to be over. I forget that it may be only one of a few remaining.

We don’t seem able to live in this acute state for long. I have witnessed this increased intensity and fervor many times, most recently with my own diagnosis of breast cancer in October, 2008. Then, as now, everything took on an ardent brilliance. But as the months passed after my own diagnosis, some of that luminosity faded. Not all, but some.

Certainly that moment changed my life, for the better I am lucky to say, but then I had a simple and easy solution. My friend does not. Or maybe it is as easy: do what seems right and best at this moment. I have watched his life open as did mine. He has been vulnerable, transparent, and has received and given love freely. And he has said he is changing; becoming something new.

I believe we die as we live, and so those same fears and inhibitions that troubled our life may haunt our death. I so want my friend to have a good death, to let his own fears fall away so that he can move into his passing with freedom. And for those of us living that we can move into life with that same deliverance.

What is this freedom? As homeopaths we speak of it as a definition of health: to be free from physical pain replaced with a sense of well-being, a freedom from passions replaced with dynamic calmness, and a freedom from selfishness replaced with empathy. For each of us this freedom takes on unique challenges based on who and how we are in the world. And, I think, our life’s work is to face these challenges in order to become more whole and more wholly ourselves.

One of the blessings in my life that resulted from my diagnosis was that I realized I was deeply loved. In part, because this same friend created the first of many healing circles where my friends and colleagues came to tell me they loved me. During one ceremony this friend sang the heart sutra to me: Gate gate, paragate, parasamgate, bodhi svaha. Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone utterly beyond, o what an enlightenment! David created an opportunity to heal a part of myself that needed healing. It was a true gift. I now sing this to him in his last hours.

Death is sitting on his bed, as it is for all of us, but most of us roll over believing we can ignore this patient guest. But I think there is something quite beautiful in holding death’s hand, just as we hold the hand of birth and beginnings. We can turn towards each and say, “I am fully in life now.”

Buddha says, "There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way and not starting." How do we start? How do we step into truth, honesty, beauty, suffering, loss, love and ourselves fully? Most of the time we are living life forgotten, perhaps all we need to do is try to set aside fear, or laziness, or all the other states that paralyze and prevent us from living completely, and take one step further on that road.

Raccoons

I have always had raccoons that visit my pond every day. In the spring it is often a family, a parent or two with a few wee ones trailing behind, but by late summer they have usually sorted themselves out so that just one shows up regularly. This years fellow is quite entertaining.

First, I have insisted over the years that the raccoons do not get in the pond. I had never seen them swimming and my goldfish population never seemed to be depleted unless the heron came by to have a snack. But this year I have been proved wrong.

Not only does this very friendly fellow swim but he collects slugs from my garden and squishes them on the pallet outside the back door of the clinic. He rolls them until they are no longer 'whole' and then eats them.

I was quite charmed by this until I realized he had taken my mat that usually lies on top of the pallet. Now this little rascal has tossed the pillows from my chairs into the pond, and I assumed the same fate had befallen my mat. However, a few days later, I noticed the chagrined raccoon dragging the mat across the lawn towards the pallet.

A few days later I accidently left two of Zooey's toys out and when I went out in the morning all that was left was a little arm from the stuffed bear. However, my well-mannered raccoon returned a few days later to leave her partially disemboweled and armless bear as a a request for amnesty, or perhaps just to show off his clever eviscerating skills.

In addition to these activities my intrepid raccoon also pulls off the flowers from the dahlias, tosses them into the air, catches them and then rolls about. A behavior that Zooey performs with her various toys, including the once-intact bear.

This raccoon, and his past generations are famous in the neighborhood as they are known to be quite friendly with the neighborhood cats. They apparently sleep together, nose-kiss and show no signs (to date) of aggressive behavior.

However I do keep a watchful eye when Zooey is out during raccoon time.

Homeopathy and Therapy

Patients often say how much the homeopathic consultation, or first constitutional interview, is like therapy. I believe what they mean is that they did not expect to reveal, nor had they ever done so in a doctor’s office before, parts of themselves or their life story so completely. That their telling was more similar to what they share with their therapist or counselor then a physician.

And my psychotherapist colleagues, who I share patients with, often marvel at the depth and breadth of what the patient reveals in their first hour with the homeopath. One therapist said it took her months to get the same body of information from a mutual patient obtained after an hour and a half in the homeopath’s office; and it is true, the skills of the homeopath are particularly masterful at uncovering and discovering the patient’s inner world.

Homeopaths have learned how to create a space where the patient narrates their story and symptom picture in such a way that creates texture, dimension and connections. In some ways it doesn’t matter what the story is, it can be in the telling that much is revealed. How the patient experiences their asthma is more important than that they have this complaint. To help the patient tell their story and to use this information well is the artistry of the homeopath.

One significant difference between the therapist and homeopath is what we do with the narrative offered by the patient. The homeopath serves as witness to and translator of the patient’s story. We find a thread in this tapestry of seemingly unrelated symptoms. We see this strand, hear this note, repeated in different ways but all conveying the same theme. Not just one theme, but two or three, that create a three dimensional image and portrait of the patient.

We then translate the patient’s words and experience into a meaningful pattern that is evocative of a homeopathic remedy’s pattern of symptoms and expression. This matching and corresponding with a substance, a substance that is a dilute but potent medicine, is one of the primary challenges for the homeopath.

The therapist, on the other hand, works directly with the patient to move through their story and experience of the story to heal. They use the story and their relationship with the patient to this end. We also, undeniably, are in relationship with our patients and this, too, is hugely influential in our patient’s healing. I do not think a patient would heal as deeply or as quickly without the relationship. I believe we all need connection, to be understood, to be guided at times, and to feel we have a companion in the walk towards better health. It is not just a remedy that is the healing agent, but a remedy, a relationship and a dynamic confluence of concurrent life experiences. It is true that a bee sting or a sprained ankle may not require this, but a life long affliction of depression or eczema requires more, from both the patient and the doctor.

One of the pleasures for me as a homeopath is this relationship. I enjoy caring for my patients, I enjoy the trust of their lives, story and health. I also enjoy the analytic aspect where my skills in pattern recognition are honed. As homeopaths we are doctor, anthropologist, sociologist, psychologist and scientist, all in one.

Helleborus: Dullness after Tragedy

Two cases of Helleborus

By Krista Heron, ND, DHANP

I have long been touched by the simple wane-like appearance of the Hellebores. My mother had planted a hillside of them underneath the shadow of a dozen Douglas Firs. They would bloom at the beginning of winter and look pale and ghostly through the season’s rain and snow. Little else bloomed at this time of year in our garden, but the flowers of the Hellebores were hardly cheery, unlike the Snowdrops that valiantly rose out of the frosty ground near them or the eventual Crocus that would beckon Spring. Instead it was their lack of vibrancy that distinguished the Hellebores. Their subdued hues ranged from pale green to a muted purple. These are not bright vivacious colors but instead reflect the sensorial depression and dullness that is characteristic of these remedies.

The Hellebores belong to the Ranunculaceae family, which are divided into the subgroups Anemonean (Adonis, Hepatica, Hydrastis, Pulsatilla), Clematideae (Clematis Erecta), Helleboreae (Aconitums, Acteas, Aquilegia, Caltha, Helleborus, Staphysagria), Paeoneae (Paeonia) and the Ranunculeae (R. acris, R. bulbosus, R.ficaria, R. flammula, R. glacialis, R. repens, R. sceleratus).

The patients who need these remedies in the Ranunculaceae family have very sensitive temperaments. They feel a lack of inner strength; a kind of delicacy or an impressionable quality that allows them to feel slighted, fearful or timid. It is not only that they are passive and soft, but that they can be excitable, hysterical and touchy as well. It is this changeable nature that we are so familiar with in Pulsatilla, but that we see in the others as well. This malleability or capriciousness is characteristic of this family. They are sensitive to others and what others think of them. In their great sensitivity they can suppress their own emotions in order to find the comfort they are seeking.

Helleborus doesn’t just seem to suppress their emotions; they become dulled as a means to overcome the tremendous terror they feel. It seems that they can not process the sensory world. They may see and hear but they are befuddled and benumbed by the meaning of it. They experience apathy or a state of suspension. It is as if they are cut off from the world and themselves in this essential way, not being able to interpret or comprehend their own experience, thoughts or feelings.

Diane came to see me in 1994 when she was 44 years old. She had just finished her doctorate in Biology. Prior to Helleborus she had received Lycopodium and Opium, and experienced only minor improvement in her symptoms.

“The last 7 years I have healed a lot from a sexual assault and childhood fears. But I still feel vulnerable and helpless and I am not able to think clearly.”

Here we have the first clue that she is in the Ranunculeae family: she tells us she is vulnerable and helpless. Her first hint of Helleborus is revealed when she says she can not think clearly.

“I feel estranged from work. My last year at school I found comfort in the academics. I felt as if I was crawling into a hole. Now I feel a lack of motivation and self-esteem despite having more support and stimulation. I feel apathetic.”

“I can also be very sensitive and will at some point run into something or someone in my environment that will frighten and affect me deeply. It’s as if I was assaulted and it will burst the bubble. I can feel exquisite and delightful and then will be filled with doubts. I feel foolish, I don’t know how to lead my life and I have made so many mistakes. I feel fragile, frightened and vulnerable.”

“I feel anxious and hurried and I can no longer choose what to do, that I’ve lost the ability to choose. [I went home for a visit and I had all these] feelings about my father; he had attempted to sexually molest me as a child. I would stop breathing like I was trying to die and escape by killing myself.”

We can see in Diane’s symptoms the Helleborus state. She is vulnerable and sensitive yet she has become numb after a frightful childhood. She feels as if she was crawling into a hole, or that a protective bubble has been burst. Both of these exemplify the sensory withdrawal she uses as her strategy to survive. She doubts herself and feels she has made many mistakes. Helleborus too feels they have done some wrong. She feels hurried and irresolute and it is similar to the befuddled state of Helleborus where they feel confused, hurried and indecisive. But it is that they have a slowed-down mind, an inability to process, not their intellect that is affected. Diane has a feeling of being assaulted and this too is replicated in the remedy’s delusion of being pursued by enemies. We also see the alternating state of this family: the delight and then the doubts. And again she describes herself as fragile and vulnerable; a classic feeling of many of the flower remedies.

“I went to a meeting and felt emotionally weak. I drew a line as to what I thought I could do and was attacked by an individual. I felt upset, angry and I cried. I felt like hiding. I felt like I had been smashed, I felt unprotected, so hurt, and I lost perspective. I felt shame that I fell so far into this weak state.”

“Recently my roommate turned on me and I was blown away. I became terrified, afraid she would yell at me. I felt poisoned and blocked. This was just like how my mother terrorized me. I felt cut to the bone, like a beaten dog that is skittish. Now I am numb. My mother would have violent rages when I was young and would spit and curse. I was terrorized and would almost stop breathing and try to hide. I would tighten into a ball. Later I would drop out of life by getting sick. I feel I have no defense against others, I feel terrified and it turns into numbness.”

Here we have a further clarification of the Helleborus picture. She is terrified and as a result she becomes numb. She has no other defense but to “drop out of life”, to “stop breathing” and “to hide”.

“In January I hit my head on a metal bar. I didn’t pass out but a few days later I couldn’t walk very well, not because of my legs but because of my eyes. I couldn’t process very well. I also felt a pressure in my head. I didn’t accurately judge how bad I was. It was a distinct feeling of being disconnected from my lower body as if it was someone else. It was so strange to stand or walk. I would pass stool and it felt far away, without any sensation. My whole pelvis was some other place. I had to do everything not to succumb to fear. It was like drowning. It was a huge challenge to breathe. I feel confused, I don’t care about anything, and I don’t even know where I am now. No one will ever know what I’ve come through. I feel sad that I’ve isolated myself. I have no circle of friends or partner. How did I paint myself into this corner?”

Head injuries are one of the etiologies for the instigation of the Helleborus state. Here, however, we see it exacerbating this state. She becomes numb to her body; there are no sensations and poor perceptions. She “couldn’t process” the information her senses and mind were taking in.

“Right after the accident I had horrible nightmares with creatures screaming and wailing in agony. I felt like I’ve completely revisited my early experiences when I was violently raped 30 years ago. I felt that raw terror. I had been raped in 1968 after the Martin Luther King riots in Washington, DC. It was a very violent time. I didn’t know if we would live through it. Then I had a second trauma of an abortion after the rape.”

It is the terror, the frightful experiences that have time and again pushed her deeper into the Helleborus state.

“I feel like I’m in molasses or glue. Not only my body but my thinking too. It’s less nimble and it’s heavy. I speak so much more slowly. In the morning I just want to go back asleep. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I feel like hiding. They don’t care. I’m suicidal but what’s the point? What do I have to look forward to?”

Everything is slowed down, and Helleborus exists somewhere on this continuum of feeling hurried and moving and talking slowly.

“I like sweets. I sigh a lot. I have a slump around or before 4:00 p.m. and feel blank. It may start as early as 1:00. I tend towards right-sided complaints. I have problems with gas and constipation and take psyllium husks before bed nightly. I don’t drink enough water and I am chilly.”

The general symptoms of Helleborus are very similar to Lycopodium: both are right-sided remedies, worse at 4:00 pm, constipated, not very thirsty and chilly. I gave Diane Helleborus 200. She wrote and called six weeks later.

“Since taking the last remedy I have felt a marked shift in my sense of myself and my environment. I never would have believed it possible to have my life and aura restored in such a way.”

“Before, I lived in fear and now I experience everything differently. A shadow was revealed in me, something very ugly. It was a violence within myself, someone hard, uncaring, cruel, harsh and unfeeling. And that was what I experienced from my mother.”

“The world looks and feels different; I can hardly believe it; I feel I have “awoke” in some fundamental way. Now when I begin to slip into a depressed feeling, or have a thought of discouragement or helplessness, or feel like a victim, at the same moment I have awareness, a kind of simple witnessing as in meditation. I don’t need to spend a lot of time floundering or being lost in the murky confusion of doubt, fear or withdrawal. It’s as though I had learned some deep habit of contraction away from life for survival. And now a miracle has occurred and I have a chance to come to life, no longer crouching in remote corners of my soul. I feel so alive now.”

This was a wonderful beginning for the healing that I observed over the next few years. This remedy was repeated in March and September of 1995 and in September 1996. At last report the patient was still doing well.

A second case of Helleborus further illustrates the image of this remedy. Sally came to see me because she had been diagnosed with an aggressive breast cancer and had completed traditional treatment including surgery, radiation and chemotherapy. But the cancer was only part of her concern. She was back in school and wasn’t able to focus. This was not a new problem, but one that she had struggled with her whole life.

”I am very distractible, even small sounds draw my attention. I don’t have an ability to concentrate. My mind races and I am always on guard against all the dragons. I become immobilized with fear. I feel very unsafe. I struggle to not be afraid of people. I am afraid they would torture me or make me take poison. I feel a lack of safety, no defenses, invaded. [When I was a child] my mother threatened to drop me on the railroad tracks. I lived in absolute terror. There was no sense of comfort. I had no defenses. I would tell myself not to sleep.”

Again we see the vulnerability and the sensitivity with the underlying etiology of terror. It is also interesting to me that both women felt or feared being poisoned. Helleborus is a poisonous plant and in our repertories the twelve remedies listed under various rubrics mentioning poisons eleven are poisonous as well.

“In my dreams I would try very hard to do something right, but someone was always saying I did it wrong.”

Again we see this idea of doing some wrong in Sally’s case as well as Diane’s.

“I am having a hard time being in my body. I feel lightheaded, my eyes don’t focus. I have a lot of feeling in my head, but it is hard to think, so much processing going on inside but I can’t think clearly. I want to sleep a lot; I feel I am losing my connection with life. I am losing my ability to be in the world, like I am dying, like I am leaving my life. I am afraid to go out into the world. I feel defenseless, porous and separate. I haven’t wanted to grow up, to make my way in the world, to go out into the world. I want to connect with someone who has joy.”

Sally describes her dullness as “so much processing...but I can’t think clearly.” She too is becoming numb. She states she is “losing her connection with life” and her “ability to be in the world.” The childishness that we see in this family of remedies is seen in her desire to not “grow up.” Helleborus, Aconite, Epiphegus and Pulsatilla are all mentioned in this rubric Childish behavior.

“It is hard to think, hard to pull my thoughts together. Something is missing, it is an effort to explain, to pull it together to explain. I work so hard to think, I can’t access who I really am. This dullness is taking away who I am; there is nothing. There is no enthusiasm for life, an inability to go forward, to materialize my dreams, to live the depths of myself. I just feel like an old person. I could sleep until my life is over.

I have a slump between 2:30 and 4:00. I am chilly. I have a dry mouth so am thirsty.”

Sally can’t “pull her thoughts together,” the dullness is making her numb, “taking away who [she] is.” And we see the familiar generalities of feeling worse in the afternoon, and in Sally’s case, we see the dry mouth, also a symptom of Helleborus.

I gave Sally Helleborus 200 and she came back in six weeks.

“The very next day I felt different. Then two weeks later I realized how very good I had been feeling. I had a dream that I felt meant I was reclaiming my power, and another where a salmon was suspended in space and I thought ‘when it thaws out it will be okay’. It was like how I have been frozen my whole life. I don’t feel any dullness at all. I don’t feel tired anymore. I feel alert all day.”

These two cases illustrate the primary strategy that the Helleborus patient employs. These women experienced frightful and abusive childhoods as well as a continuation of traumas in their adult lives. In order to survive these difficulties; their vital force chose these strategies to help survive by becoming numb and dull to their sensory world. The pain they had suffered was too great to feel any longer so dullness set in. Both of these women are now living much fuller lives, they feel as if they have awakened from a kind of frozen state and are alive again.

Spring Flowers and Friends at the Thornton Creek Homeopathic Clinic

The Bleeding Hearts and violets are in full bloom, with the Columbine about to burst into flower. The Hostas and Daylilies are leafing out along with the ferns and iris.

Ducks arrived 3 weeks ago to visit the garden and pond for several hours a day.... a treat for us all....

and luckily the fish do not seem to mind.....

LONGING FOR A PERFECT INTIMACY

Two cases of Pseudotsuga menziesii

Krista Heron, N.D., DHANP

I have enjoyed following and learning from two cases of Pseudotsuga over the last few years. This remedy is of particular interest to me because the tree is a native of the Pacific Northwest and, having grown up in this region with a father who was a forester, I have always felt a kinship with it. The principle characteristics that we find in this tree of isolation, dissociation, and internal emptiness are shared by the other conifers but what I found particularly striking was the bleak loneliness and longing for connection that seems specific to Pseudotsuga menziesii.

I first saw Heather in November of 1994. She was 26 and working as a marketing coordinator. Her main complaints were depression, bulimia and constipation. She had been taking a laxative for the past 5 years. I initially gave her Natrum carbonicum, Aurum, Alumina and Stramonium with some minor improvement but nothing deeply curative or lasting.

She had been in therapy for the last three years struggling with issues of victimization partly as a result of her father having incested her from age 4 to 14. “It’s like a big dark hand trying to pull me down. I got the raw end of the deal; some people get support from their family from the very beginning — I never did. I drink a lot and have been addicted to cocaine. It is hard on my body and spirit. I was never understood by my family, so I set myself off from them and others. I don’t know what I want to do, I missed my chance. My family held me back so much. There was no one there. I felt lost, invisible.”

From the very beginning we see the Pseudotsuga paradigm unfolding. She feels her family was unsupportive and she blames them and feels bitter. Her response is to separate and dissociate from them. I’ve found that this is common to Pseudotsuga; they feel neglected and uncared for so they create a wall of bitterness to compensate.

“Now life feels empty, I don’t have a connection to a higher power. I am a floating entity in an abyss; where do I go? Where do I go to meet a nice guy? Who do I trust? I always have this big wall, a hard edge. I’m trying to be softer”.

She feels lost and experiences this both emotionally and spiritually. Her feeling of emptiness causes her to long for a connection but instead she finds herself behind a wall. This is another trait of this remedy and the other conifers. They have hardness about them. This wall Heather describes, and wishes was softer, has kept her separate, not only from real intimacy, but even from herself.

David Warkentin has suggested that the inner emptiness and wall which appears to be common to all conifers is mirrored by the large core of dead wood in the center of the tree juxtaposed with the thin layer of live cells of the bark. He has described how Juniper feels their inner space is dead, that Taxus, Abies canadensis and A. nigra feel this great emptiness in their stomachs and that Thuja imagines their emptiness to be filled with an imaginary pregnancy. This emptiness that Heather feels is what drives her to search for some relief from her suffering.

Heather talks about being in an abyss and as a child she had dreams of falling into a bottomless pit. Then she tells us that it is as if she is floating; not floating in a dreamy way but as if suspended in darkness, a nightmarish sensation of utter aloneness.

“I have nothing, no one to give to; no one will notice if I am here or not. It feels very dark, I don’t belong anywhere. I feel alone, lost, like it is black all around. I don’t know how to put it back right, I am making poor choices, I don’t know where I belong, I don’t fit in. I am without an anchor. I am a misfit. I am roaming around lost."

These references to Spirit and the abyss remind me of the growth pattern of this tree. They grow hundreds of feet tall yet have a very shallow root system. The vertical nature of the tree is reflected in this case with her sense of falling and a dark hand pulling her down, her longing for a connection to a higher power and feeling bereft of an anchor. Because of the shallow roots this tree easily falls in high winds and due to severe rain erosion.

"I can’t make decisions, I don’t know what I want. I break plans, I have no backbone. I question everything. If someone offers another option I reconsider. I don’t know who I am. I don’t have a boyfriend or partner to share with; I am missing that major link, I am missing a bond. I wonder what’s wrong with me. I just want the connection. I don’t seem to be attracting it. What is deficient? What can I change? Probably it would help if I could be more decisive. I feel like I live in a shell. I feel like I am defective and I just want to run away. No one wants me and I feel so unworthy. I don’t know how to bond, communicate or create intimacy. I don’t think I am good at getting close to people. I close off. I am so afraid of being rejected; I’m afraid to try because I am not as good as anyone else. I have so much instability in my life. I am trying to learn. I feel worthless and insignificant, like I’ll crumble.”

Massimo Mangialavori tells us that another trait of the conifer remedies is that they are self-centered; focusing on themselves. With their narcissism they can feel quite insecure because of their mistakes and weakness. Heather really only tells us about herself; everything is from this self-focused perspective. Certainly most of our patients' stories are about themselves but usually not to the exclusion of others. Yet that is what this story is about — that she is alone. She is a lone tree in a forest. She feels defective and unworthy, that something is deeply wrong with her. My impression is that this remedy shows more of themselves than some of the other conifers; they feel the same shame but are not as hidden or deceptive.

“I feel lonely, I just don’t have a connection. I feel really alone. Maybe I need to seek a spiritual connection; I feel cut off. I don’t know what I believe in; is it all real anyway? I’m seeking comfort; something deep inside needs to be comforted. I feel alone. It feels dark, gray, dismal and lifeless. I feel like a cloudy day in Seattle; dreary where the charcoal gray clouds touch the gray water. No one is there. Friends have let me down. I count on them and they don’t follow through.”

In June of 1996 I heard Steve Olsen’s proving of Pseudotsuga menziesii, the Douglas Fir. I was struck by the similarities between this remedy and the other conifers I was familiar with; particularly the digestive symptoms of Abies canadensis and Thuja’s feelings of shame. The emotional state described by Dr. Olsen seemed similar to what Heather had been describing. I prescribed the remedy in a 30c for her.

At the end of September 1996 Heather reports “This is a great remedy, my stomach is great and I am really well and happy. I am finding out that I am not my things; everything I have is here inside me. I feel more balanced. This remedy agrees with me. My energy is good and I am eating decently. I have a greater sense of well being. I am weeding out my friends, getting rid of people who aren’t worth my time”. Her constipation is much improved, as is the bulimic behavior. She is no longer drinking and is in Alcoholics Anonymous.

One year after the remedy Heather married. Now, three years later, her constipation and stomachaches are rare and her bulimia is no longer a problem. She feels a greater peace and confidence in herself. Her physical symptoms continue to respond to the remedy and she continues to heal more deeply emotionally and spiritually with each dose.

Heather has had single doses of Pseudotsuga menziesii 30c 9/96, 4/97, 9/97, 4/98 and 200c 6/98, 11/98 and 4 /99.

The second case of Pseudotsuga was Sarah, born in 1955, whom I have been seeing since October of 1996. Her main complaints have been bulimia, constipation and amenorrhea. Under another physician’s care she experienced relief from various minor complaints and feeling a greater sense of well being from Natrum muriaticum. However her eating disorder and constipation persisted and she had been amenorrheic since February of 1996.

In January 1997 Sarah told me “I binged while I was visiting my parents in Montana. I was home alone and decided to act out, it was a game. The whole point was that it was a secret. I break the rules and eat for the sake of eating. I feel an unbearable emotional pressure and eating displaces that pressure. It’s like a pit in my stomach. It’s a feeling of being alone and detached in the universe. It’s like a hydrogen balloon...it’s fear...I don’t think I can endure the feeling it’s so unbearable. I feel I have to bear it myself because I forget there is help available. I have to do it myself; I comfort myself with a plan to eat. I feel a fire in my abdomen, a cave, and darkness. It’s a fear that I’ve done something wrong, that someone has something I don’t have and I should have it too, if only I was doing my life right. That creates this pressure. It’s a kind of self-pity. I feel I have no resources. I am very judgmental towards others and very hard on myself. I feel a sense of isolation from others and from the universe. I have this image that my soul is an anchor, yet I don’t feel connected, I need to trust.”

I gave her Pseudotsuga 30 as a single dose and she came back 6 weeks later. She said, “I’m like a new person which is really just my old self. I’m having a bowel movement 2 times a day now, whereas before it was once a week. I am living in my body more than ever. I haven’t binged and am eating 3 meals a day. Before I felt isolated, now I feel a sense of community.”

I saw her again in 6 weeks and she had one episode of bingeing for a week while visiting her parents. However there was still no relapse in her constipation. I waited. Another 6 weeks passed with the same story of another binge and still no reoccurrence of the constipation or feelings of isolation. Her menses continued to be absent however. I had just obtained the remedy in a 200 potency in June of 1998, so I gave it to her. She called 2 weeks later to tell me her menses had returned after 2 1/2 years. She has continued to do well in all her complaints of constipation, bulimia, and her sense of isolation. She is having monthly menstrual periods as well. She had a second dose of Pseudotsuga 200c 11/98.

Steve Olsen describes Pseudotsuga menziesii as being similar to Aurum and Natrum muriaticum. He makes the distinction that the Aurum patient is much more of a perfectionist while Natrum muriaticum is less expressive emotionally. I saw elements of each of these remedies in these cases, but when they were prescribed they were not similar enough to the patients to affect them in a long-lasting or curative way. What was most significant to me was that each of these women longed for a deeper connection in their emotional and spiritual lives and experienced an extraordinary sense of isolation. The desire for a perfect type of intimacy that seems to characterize the Pseudotsuga patient was the core issue that I saw in Heather and Sarah.

Heather felt this disconnection in her life all the while yearning for something deeply comforting and intimate. I saw this same sense of disconnection in Sarah’s case. They described this state as being detached or isolated from others and the universe, lost in a tunnel or floating in an abyss; without an anchor. They described their internal feeling as being like a cave or someplace dark or black. And they both felt cut-off and without resources; missing a bond or a sense of belonging that would provide them with comfort. Each of these women sought solace and nurturance in food as a replacement for this emptiness in their relational lives. They also both experienced a kind of stasis physically with their constipation and amenorrhea.

The stark isolation of this remedy reminds me of the Douglas fir forests in the Pacific Northwest. These are evergreen forests that are virtual deserts. There are very few animals or other species of plants in these forests. It is this atmosphere that creates a feeling of loneliness; the trunks standing straight with only the upper limbs touching, the canopy above creating a dark and somber environment below. No creatures stirring, just the somber silence of grayed light. I believe this image is similar to how these patients feel cut-off. They find themselves completely alone, a lone tree in a world that is devoid of others.

In the deciduous forest every part of the tree is used for food or shelter by some creature, but in the conifer forest few parts of the tree are edible. This forest is disconnected from other animals and plants and finds itself rather solitary specie. The loneliness and separation can be seen in this state. Even the hardness of the patients; their closed or walled off nature can be seen in the woodiness of this tree. Every part of the conifer moves towards this woodiness - even the tiniest sprouts are already too fibrous for most creatures to eat.

The remedy's physical complaints of stasis, such as constipation and amenorrhea and their bulimia can be seen as the two poles of flow and stasis. This tree has a voracious appetite drawing huge quantities of water and nutrients up its trunk. It seems the other conifer remedies have this same appetite. We see in Abies canadensis and Abies nigra, two trees that also live in the Pacific Northwest, this same ravenous hunger. They speak of their stomach or abdomen as if it is their center; a reference point that reflects their inner emotional experience. Perhaps when this flow of liquids cannot move we find the constipation and suppressed menses common to this remedy.

The great height of the trees may explain why there is such a spiritual longing in this remedy. They long to fill themselves with Spirit or make a spiritual connection as a means to fill that inner emptiness they feel. These trees are coveted by the forestry industry because they grow tall and straight with few branches or knots. This linear direction or intention reflects not only the spiritual longing but also their fall into the depths of their depression. Nearly all of the old groves have been eliminated, and again this may explain the bitterness or betrayal this remedy feels. First they have been isolated and then systematically decimated, with few friends to protect them.

Published in LINKS, Summer 1999

Mandragora: The Quieter Side of Belladonna

Mandragora: The Quieter Side of Belladonna

A successful case of a lesser known remedy

(Names and identifying features have been changed, and this case is published with permission by the parent and child)

January 24, 1992

Emily, a 4-year-old girl, first came to see me in January 1992. She was a stocky, blond child who had an unhealthy color to her skin. She was quite pale and had a sullen look - as if a dark cloud shadowed her. She was active with slightly destructive behavior. She was a little rough with the things in my office - banging into tables and slamming doors.

Emily’s mother begins to speak:

Emily started to have ear infections when she was 4 months old and then stopped a few months later when I took her off dairy. They came back this past summer. The ear infections are usually on the right and she will have a fever. The pain can be intense. Normally she has a very pale face, but when she gets a fever she flushes and has dark circles under her eyes. She will get quiet and cranky with the fever.

She is a very self-directed and moody child. She will have temper tantrums if you try to influence her. She screams, and will kick and hit if you try to restrain her. She says, “I hate you, you aren't my friend.” She has an inner violence and has smashed two mirrors recently. She is a very obstinate, bright and intense child; whatever she feels, she feels intensely. She is sensitive.

She is very curious about death and asks a lot of questions about it. She is not fearful but has a precocious understanding. She is fascinated by graveyards and the darker side of life. She likes to watch, over and over again, the video of Bambi’s mother getting shot. She will ask, “Why is there death? Where do you go when you die? What happens?” She is fixated on the Red Bull who is an evil character in the Last Unicorn video. She likes to watch the bull getting the unicorn.

[At this moment, Emily is hopping like a bunny, around and around in a circle]

She has a hard time going to sleep and awakens early in the morning. She says she is afraid she will die young, or that she might die in her sleep. She makes humming and muttering noises to pacify herself. She hates the dark, and she sleeps with the light on. Sometimes she has nightmares three to four times a week. She dreams of skeletons, wild animals and owls. It is almost impossible to wake her. She usually awakens between 1:00 and 4:30 am with the dreams.

She is afraid of monsters under the bed or in the closet, and she used to check for them. She is afraid of coat hangers; I had to take them all out of the closet when she was younger. She is afraid of sirens.

She can be very intense in her focus. She used to unnerve people because of her eye contact as a baby. She walked at 5 months. She was small for her age and wanted my attention all the time. When she turned 4 it started to dissipate. She doesn’t do things in the middle; it is one extreme or the other. I have had a hard time setting limits; she pushes against them all the time.

She is extremely curious. She has a remarkable connection to animals. She loves to draw pictures of them and tell long stories. She wants to create what she is imagining. Right now she has an idea she wants to save elephants, so she is making plans to build a preserve.

She gets along with other children and has two friends. In a group she has an inward focus and won’t join an activity circle; yet she is the dominant child in playgroups. She is very private about what is going on with her. If I ask about daycare she says, “I don’t want to tell you.” She is guarded about what is going on in her heart. She is not really affectionate.

She is not a morning person. She is warm-blooded and hates wearing clothes. She is not interested in them and will wear the same thing for days. She likes chicken, hot dogs, sausage, peanut butter and sweets. She doesn’t like eggs. She has average thirst. She sleeps on her left.

She has masturbated since she was 1 and 1/2 years old.

When she was born I labored for 30 hours. She had to be pushed back in before she could come out.

P: I first prescribed Tuberculinum and then months later, Belladonna and Stramonium. None of these remedies had any remarkable effect.

Six years after the initial visit

November 3, 1998

She is 11 years old now, with the same dark circles and pale look. A little like a blond version of Wednesday from the Addams Family television show.

Mother speaks:

Emily has been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder. She started middle school this year and there was a big leap in the amount of homework to be done. It has been a bit of a challenge for her.

Emily speaks:

I don't get most of my homework done; it takes me 2-3 hours a night. I like certain classes in school like drama class. It's fun because you get to do whatever you want. We play "freeze" and then we get "sculpted." I like writing class too. I think my Astronomy and Science classes are the most difficult.

[Emily squints and blinks spasmodically throughout our conversation; like she has a tic]

I have lots of friends and we don't get into trouble too much. I like my friend Tanya, you can trust her if you tell her a secret. I live with my mother and step-dad and I see my father three-and-a-half days a week.

I am afraid of wars and worry someone could come and bomb Seattle. And I am afraid of gang members. I've read stories. They take drugs and do violence. I don't want to get hurt. I worry if I am home alone. Sometimes I'll be home three hours at night while my dad is out. I feel nervous, mostly about robbers. When I was little I was afraid of coat hangers. I still sleep with the light on because when I wake up it is really dark and I like to be able to see.

This year for Halloween I was a ‘killer cheerleader’ and the year before I had darts stuck all over my face.

[Emily described her costume as consisting of a cheerleader uniform with a knife stuck through her chest, blood spattered across the front of her sweater and dripping down her face. One arm was mangled and dangling as if it had been nearly ripped off]

Emily leaves the room and her mother continues:

Emily is not very verbal, but she loves to write. She doesn't like to focus on things she isn't interested in. Outside that circle, nothing else exists. She doesn't have the time of day for anything else. It is like pulling teeth to get her to do things she doesn't want to do. She would be happy if all she had to do was art, drama or writing. She has always had a constant fascination with animals.

She can't be flexible with her friends. She doesn't let someone into her own world, nor does she reach into theirs. She is connected to this other place, and even if she wants to fit in, this other world overtakes her. She arranged for a rite of passage ceremony when she was ten, for her menarche. She created a medicine wheel and lit candles.

She is daring and wants drama and excitement. She was the leader for a bungee jump for a group of kids. Another time she rented a limousine, dressed to the "nines" and went out for ice cream with her friends. Once she arranged for a belly dancer to teach her classmates how to dance. Her friends are not necessarily interested in these things.

As a child she was fascinated with the darker side of life. She was curious about death, not fearful of it. She wanted to watch over and over again the part in the movie where Bambi's mother is shot by the hunter. Or she would watch another movie repeatedly about unicorns and how the evil Red Bull gets them. She would watch that part over and over again. She was always fascinated by graveyards. She reads book after book of horror stories and loves fantasies and magic.

She can be very guarded and private about her feelings. She came into the world closed and the ADD may be a way for her to close off further from all the stimulation. She can get a sudden temper just out of nowhere. When she was little she often had temper tantrums. She displays a lot of aggression in her roughhousing. She will really whack her step-dad.

She stole some make-up from her father's girlfriend. She denied it. She needs more attention from him.

P: Mandragora 200

6 Weeks later

December 14, 1998

Emily’s mother speaks:

Her blinking stopped immediately and she recently got a note from her teacher saying she "exceeded expectations." There has been a sweetening of her. She seems less guarded and more vulnerable. She still keeps things inside however. She has been turning her homework in on time, where before it would be two or three days late. She says she is concentrating in class easier and isn't goofing off as much.

A: I am pleased with her response to the remedy. A physical symptom has improved as well as her overall state.

P: Watch and wait

I continued to see Emily every 2-3 months. I repeated the remedy in March due to some return of the blinking and because she began to turn in her homework late. I increased the potency to a 1M in July and repeated the remedy again in November.

15 months later

February 15, 2000

Emily speaks:

The remedy helps me to focus and I don’t feel depressed anymore. My classes are going well and I am getting my homework in on time.

Mother speaks:

Emily is doing remarkably better, I noticed within two hours of her taking the remedy that she seemed to improve. It made a huge difference and she really has started to blossom. She has more friends and she seems really engaged with them, more “out there.” Her father has been in therapy and is more available to her now.

But her blinking started a week ago again so I brought her in. She blinks when she is anxious.

She had a sore throat a month ago that lasted three days with fevers of 102. She got over it quickly. I don’t remember if it was worse on one side or not.

She had a dream about being in the snow and some birds came to sit on her. One was a very rude parrot and she gave him away to someone so they could eat him. The rest of the birds she kept as friends. She also just wrote a book for school; it was about life, death and love. In the story a boy, with multiple personalities, drowns. He has tried to kill the girl. Emily says at the end “She will always hold the memories in her heart”. It is about a girl who has a huge pain that made her different from others. That she is marked in some way, and never able to go back.

Emily has dealt in the underworld all her life. She used to freak people out even when she was just a few days old because she would look at you with so much intensity. But now she is enjoying being different. She tested in the top 10 percent in the country on her verbal SATs.

The remedy seems to allow her to receive love and helps her to understand that I am there for her.

P: Watch and Wait

Almost two years after the initial dose

October 11, 2000

Mom speaks:

Everything is great! Emily is in an amazing place. Before she took the remedy she was getting Cs and Ds on her report card. Now she is getting all As, and she has joined a volleyball team. It is amazing how she has relaxed into the world. She has come into it in a way I never imagined she would. It is like the sun came out. She can still be private, but she is not brooding anymore. She still has no blinking.

Emily speaks:

I am not afraid of the dark anymore. I am not afraid of anything. Everything is going fine. I like school and it is my birthday tomorrow. This year I am planning to dress up as Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween.

A: Overall Emily seems to be doing great. She is happy and succeeding in school. I am quite charmed that she has chosen Little Red Riding Hood to portray for Halloween. This storybook character seems to reflect a number of elements that are representative of a healthy expression of this remedy.

P: Watch and wait.

Mandragora: The Quieter Side of Belladonna

What struck me on my first meeting with Emily, when she was only four, was how self-contained she was. There was a coolness about her and a distance between her mother and herself. I remember Emily standing in the corner of our waiting room looking at the toys but not engaging with them. When she came into my office she gazed out the window, for a long time, at the cemetery across the street. After our first appointment she asked her mother if they could take a walk there.

She seemed set apart by her nature. Her fascination with and fear of death was at the center of her being. She did not express her fears with as much anxiety or activity as you might see in a Belladonna child, but instead she had a trance-like interest. She would watch over and over the death of the mother deer. She would read one scary story after another. She would dress up for Halloween as gruesome visions of death. She became fascinated with the very world that so frightened her.

In addition to these two characteristics she was captivated by a world of ritual and magic. These were her strategies to survive in a world that seemed full of danger.

In general, this case illustrates an intensity that I have seen in many of the Solanaceae. However, rather than the wildness of Belladonna, the terror of Stramonium, or the sense of betrayal of Hyoscyamus, there is a withdrawn quality coupled with intense focus. What seems to characterize Mandragora is not mania but a numbness with excitability; or what Whitmont calls a “drowsy hypnotic anxiety.” In Emily we see this as a quality of being removed; residing in her own world that is both fearful of and fascinated with death and darkness.

The Solanaceae plants seem to reside between these two worlds of Light and Dark. These plants often prefer growing in the shadows such as along a hedge or in the shade of a tree. Belladonna is an upright plant with the characteristic shiny black berry at the center of the corolla. These berries resemble a deep black pupil - as if dilated in order to be able to see in the dark.

Stramonium has flowers that are dead white or lavender; that only open in the evening, emitting an intoxicating scent. At night the dark, jagged leaves close up around the flowers like a cloak. The undersides of the leaves have a pale, ghostly color in contrast to the deep gray-green above and the dark purplish stems. When in fruit this plant looks quite hostile due to the spiky, explosive pods known as thorne apples.

Hyoscyamus looks like some spiny creature with tiny hairs and wild looking flowers. It also has a heavy, oppressive odor. There is another specie of this plant that is called Bella Noche. This Hyoscyamus is so named because its scent is reminiscent of the cheap perfume of prostitutes. One can imagine the physical qualities of the plant reflected in the symptoms of shameless behavior that Hyoscyamus is so well known.

Mandragora has the characteristic jagged leaves and foetid smell of the Solanaceae. It has small bell-like flowers that are white, tinged with purple. The fruit resembles a small apple or pear. And the roots were thought to look like the bodies of men and women. One of its common names is Love Apple, which refers to its use as an aphrodisiac and fertility herb.

There were many beliefs and fears about it’s various properties. It was thought to be dangerous to gather Mandragora root because the scream from the plant, when it was pulled from the ground, was so intense that it would kill anyone who heard it. Dogs were used to uproot the plant in order to avoid these mishaps.

It was also thought that if anyone touched the herb they would be marked by bad luck. It is interesting to me that Emily wrote a story about a boy’s attempt to kill a girl because she was “marked”. I think that was how Emily felt about herself; that she was different; that she had a “huge pain that made her different from others.” She would organize belly dancing lessons and bungee jumping for her friends. But these extreme activities didn’t bring them closer; instead they clarified the distinction between them. She was wild, courageous and attracted to danger and sensuality. And as the young girl in the story, she had a “huge pain” that, in essence, courted death.

Mandragora is also associated with witches and, in particular, Kirke, who transformed humans into animals and Hecate who chased “whining dogs, while walking across ... graves ... and through dark streams of blood." This association with dogs is interesting because many of the Solanaceae remedies have symptoms relating to animals; dogs particularly. I have several cases of Solanaceae remedies where the child dreams of animals turning into humans.

It seems these remedies are more animal-like than other plants. Anthroposiphists believe this family shares a large measure of characteristics with the Animal Kingdom. According to Grohmann the purple stems of Stramonium and the seductive flowers of Hyoscyamus suggest a more sexual and animal-like nature. We can see this in their symptom pictures as well. Belladonna and Hyoscyamus both can growl and bark like dogs and Stramonium can mimic animal voices and gestures. We see their fears and delusions residing in this realm as well.

In Emily we saw her attraction and affinity for animals. She wanted to create a preserve to save elephants. She had dreams of wild animals and owls. Her mother tells us she always had a deep connection and fascination with them. I think for Emily it was in part, a world she could enter into where she didn’t feel so alone, so different. She could identify with the “otherness” of these creatures.

All the Solanaceae herbs were believed to have the ability to take away one’s inhibitions. Removing reason leaves us with instinct and impulse; something closer to an animal state. Stramonium and Belladonna were used in an ointment to induce a sense of erotic flying, in other words "flying on the witch’s broom." The scent of Hyoscyamus was also known to produce a floating sensation and the ingestion of the plant would cause wild dancing and shameless writhing. Emily expressed a precocious sexuality as well: masturbating at an early age.

Another impulse of the Solanaceae is kleptomania. Perhaps it is not unusual for children to go through a phase of stealing, but it was one of the symptoms that made me consider prescribing Mandragora in Emily’s case. Massimo Mangialavori also has found that many of his Mandragora cases have this trait.

Hecate, the witch associated with Mandragora, was further known as the "...the enemy of light and friend of darkness, who loved the spilling of blood, who walked over corpses, [and] the graves of the dead...." We can see some of these images in Emily. Certainly her Halloween costumes reflected this - dressing as a victim or perpetrator of violent deaths. And graveyards were one of Emily’s favorite places.

It is interesting to me that it was the death of the mother deer that so captivated her. It suggests her own state resonated with this image - the idea of a sudden and violent death. She was both frightened of and entranced by this idea. This is a distinguishing point for me in this case. In Belladonna I see many more instances of fear of dogs and the dark. And in Stramonium a fear that something could harm or injure them. But this fascination with death seems peculiar to Mandragora.

Her love of ritual and magic is also noteworthy. Emily created rites and ceremonies for herself by lighting candles and casting circles. One of her mother’s friends would meet with her to perform these rituals. This was a woman with whom Emily was closer to in some ways than her own mother.

Mandragora has long been associated with magic and the repertory cites two other Solanaceae with this symptom. Belladonna has the delusion that they are a magician and Solanum tuberosum aegrotans, or diseased potato, has dreams of magic.

An interesting side note is that according to Anthroposiphists, the potato, a member of this family, affects the nervous system and “interrupts creative, artistic thinking and simply supports materialistic thought.” They suggest that if people notice they are becoming forgetful, inattentive and sleepy, it can usually be connected to eating too many potatoes.

When Emily first presented to me she was intense and highly focused. So focused that, as an infant, she unnerved people with her gaze. She was described as “obstinate, bright and intense.” But as time went on her focus changed to dullness - an inability to concentrate. She didn’t “like to focus” on her school work or anything that wasn’t a part of her “other world”. This case illustrates the progression of disease. At the age of four we see that her desire and need for attention is “dissipating.” This is an instructive moment. Her ear infections had returned and her request for attention lessened. As time passed she moved deeper into her own world. She moves away from the vividness of high fevers and ear infections to a mental state that is dull. It is not the kind of numbness of mind that we might see in Helleborus. But more a trance or fascination with something. One can see the move from intensity to numbness expressed here.

In Helleborus, a member of the Ranunculaceae, we have a state that is benumbed - a kind of fog that overtakes the mind. This state of Helleborus seems to come from a broken or disrupted relationship, and in all my cases there has been a history of extreme abuse, as well. So what is it that distinguishes Helleborus from Mandragora in this regard?

One element that seems to differentiate the Ranunculaceae from the Solanaceae is how they feel forsaken. With remedies like Pulsatilla and Helleborus it seems that they were once in relationship and now feel deprived of that warmth. They long for connection and try to remain childlike as a means to retrieve the love and attention they have lost.

But the Solanaceae seem to have an experience of separateness that is cooler. Not a loss of something that was once warm, but rather, something that was never attainable in the first place. Is it the nutrition of the family soil that is different or the experience of the child? Most likely a little of both. But there does seem to be a greater disconnection between the Solanaceae child and their parents.

The Belladonna child will rage wildly, throwing themselves on the floor or striking out at their mother. But when these tantrums have occurred in my office, I have been surprised at the lack of connection between the child and the parent. It is as if the child is in their own world and the parent has distanced themselves as well. With Stramonium the feeling is that the child is completely alone in their terror; that there is no one who can bridge their fearful world with light and love. They so yearn for it, but feel a kind of dark isolation instead. And in Hyoscyamus the child feels a betrayal. Another sibling is born and the love that they longed for is even more unreachable now. In fact, what they so wished for, but never received, is being given to someone else.

In Emily we see some signs of this cool disconnection when her mother describes how “she wanted my attention all the time” and that “she needs more attention from [her father]”. In that statement is the seed of the idea that there is a greater need going unfulfilled. In some remedies there may be an insatiable hunger for love and connection in an environment that is loving, but I think in the Solanaceae there is a larger family dynamic that contributes to this disconnected state. That Emily felt closer to her mother’s friend than her own mother, or that it was the mother deer’s death that she was entranced by, suggest a larger story. We see the idea that there wasn’t enough attention for Emily and that she had a fear of losing it. But what is most interesting to me, is how Emily responds to these situations. She portrays some of the other Solanaceae strategies but more markedly she disconnects. Her mother says she is “not an affectionate” child, that she “doesn’t let anyone into her own world”. She is guarded and private. That “this other world overtakes her”.

I think the Solanaceae want relationship but they don’t trust its availability. Belladonna, Stramonium and Hyoscyamus all feel persecuted and suspicious. Stramonium and Hyoscyamus feels animals could devour them. Stramonium feels the need to be watchful or vigilant. Belladonna feels they could be injured. We can see by these symptoms that this family of plants does not rest easily; they do not trust that the world is safe. Instead, they feel aware of a constant threat. This makes them suspicious of not only creatures lurking in the night but loved ones as well.

In Emily we see her retreat to a place that is unreachable, with a resignation that the world is dark and forbidding. This is where Belladonna and Mandragora particularly diverge. A Belladonna child rages by moving into the world; they are full of fright and violence. Mandragora seems to withdraw. Emily tells us she likes her friend because you can trust her. Not because she is fun, or they share interests but because she will keep her secrets.

How did Emily get this way? I think it is quite possible that her birth trauma was a contributing etiology. To travel down a narrow passageway for 30 hours only to be pushed back in before she was allowed to come out would be terrifying and dissociating. What would one believe about the world as a result of such an experience? Why trust a world that pushed you away, who pushed you back when you were moving towards them?

All the Solanaceae have many fears. They are afraid of ghosts and animals that are hiding in the shadows, who will spring out and harm them. This is a projection of their inner state; they experience their own wildness and project that outside themselves. The Solanaceae believe the world outside is just like how they feel inside.

Emily had fears of monsters in the dark and, as she grew older, this changed to the unpredictable violence of gangs and war. I often see the sophistication of the fears of a child as they age. But what was unchanging in Emily was the idea of a sudden, impulsive violence. It is this quality that particularly excites the Solanaceae – that something wild will leap out from the dark and harm them.

Emily slept with a light on for nearly thirteen years. In the day she could find a way to live in her world, but at night all the wildness could creep into her room. She was afraid she would die in her sleep. She would hum or mutter to herself because her most frightful experience was the dark and to be able to enter into it, she had to numb herself.

Mandragora was once used as an analgesic and soporific; Shakespeare’s Juliet took this herb to feign death and induce a deep sleep. Emily’s mother reported that it was difficult to awaken her as well. But that dreams could awaken her easily, often between 1 and 4 am. The sleep of Mandragora is deep but restless and often disturbed by horrible dreams and nightmares, especially from 3 to 5 am. This is the general time of aggravation for Mandragora. Belladonna has its aggravation most commonly at 3 pm.

Emily’s dreams were interesting to me as well. The whole family of the Solanaceae has nightmares of wild animals, murder and ghosts. Emily had dreams of skeletons, wild animals and owls. Her dream of the parrot is interesting because it is suggestive of the rubric Dreams of being eaten. She makes friends with some birds, but because one is being unruly she gives it away to someone to eat. Some analysts believe we are all the characters in our dreams. And to see the unruly parrot as an expression of Emily makes this rubric more applicable. To be devoured is a repeated image in this family of remedies.

Emily was described as “extreme”; as someone who “pushed against limits.” She was dominant in play groups yet inward and self-directed. She has these two seemingly contradictory states: “hypnotic anxiety” and “excitable numbness.” Even in her fevers we see a “quiet crankiness.” But it is in these paradoxes where the primary or core feeling of a case is clarified. She was afraid of the dark yet she is attracted to darkness. She was intensely focused and then becomes dull. She wants attention yet she pushes others away. She is afraid of death yet she watches over and again the death of the mother deer.

Emily’s physical symptoms are reflected in this remedy of Mandragora as well. And certainly they resemble Belladonna, the remedy closest to Mandragora. She had right-sided ear infections, and high fevers with flushing of the face. Belladonna and Mandragora share these characteristics. They are strongly right-sided remedies, have congestive, throbbing, frontal headaches, and dilated pupils. Mandragora has been described as a cool or attenuated Belladonna. In Emily we see the recurring symptom of blinking eyes. Belladonna has this symptom listed in the repertory, but Mandragora does not. However Mandragora does have spasms. But because the eye is so central to Belladonna, and these remedies share so many traits, I felt it was reasonable for me to expect Mandragora would have a good effect.

I have been very pleased with this case. The remedy has helped Emily in a remarkable way both physically and emotionally. She has moved from a world of darkness and fear, into one that is full of light. She has become a child who is engaged in school, volleyball and friends. She is scoring in the top 10 percent of students in the US.

I find it particularly charming that Emily chose to be Little Red Riding Hood this past Halloween; a fairy tale character that seems uniquely appropriate for someone in need of a Solanaceae remedy. But there is a healthy evolution both for Emily and this character. Emily has moved from gruesome visions of violent death to a happy, carefree child, who when faced with a frightful, hungry wolf sought help and lived happily ever after.

Copyright Krista Heron, October 2000