Sensible Thoughts

It’s a beautiful, sunny Saturday. Recent rains have dissipated much of the humidity in the air, making the weather warm and pleasant. With a little bubble of anticipated pleasure forming in my head, I have decided to pack up my little, two-wheeled cart, along with some reusable shopping bags, and head over to the local farmer’s market. Such a normal, ordinary thing to do, and yet for me, it’s a big milestone.

I can’t say I’ve ever been that interested in farmer’s markets. Of course, I understand all the benefits of buying local, both nutrition-wise, and for the economy. But for many years, as a busy mom with kids, going to the farmer’s market was just another place I’d have to go. Another chore in a long list of them. It was far easier to just head over to the local supermarket, which was conveniently open 7 days a week, with hours that better suited my schedule.

So, why the sudden interest in the farmer’s market now? It all started when Mike and I drove past it on our way to work one day. I couldn’t help but notice all the happy customers walking to and fro under the colourful pavilions. It looked so peaceful. So ordinary. I remember thinking to myself, “This is what happy people do in prosperous countries: they go to market on a sunny Saturday morning”. And all of the sudden, I decided that I wanted to go too.

I don’t think I am understating things when I say that, over the last few years, I’ve been struggling with a pretty major case of mid-life burnout. I mostly keep to myself. I’ve given up on all but the closest relationships in my life. I feel numb most of the time, just going through the motions of my work. Chores that I used to feel were important to me, I am now letting slide. There are so many things that I just don’t care about anymore.

I’ve been trying to decide if this is an improvement, or if it’s not. Previously, you could say that maybe I cared too much. I let everything affect me too deeply, and as a result, I could go through major mood swings, feeling elated one day, and absolutely despondent the next. But then again, what’s happening now doesn’t feel quite right either. I don’t think it’s healthy to not care if your house is a complete and total mess. I don’t think it’s normal when you struggle to get out of bed each morning. I start to worry when I show no interest in doing any of the things I used to do.

So, under the circumstances, you can see why deciding that I wanted to go to the farmer’s market seemed like a pretty big step. I actually wanted to do something. I had a feeling that it would give me pleasure. I didn’t do it because I had to, as I’ve done so many other things in my life. I didn’t do it because someone else wanted me to do it for them. I did it because I had a small inkling, somewhere in the back of my mind, that it might make me feel happy.

And so, with slow and tentative movements, I drove our car over to the area where the farmer’s market was running, and I parked it nearby. Grabbing hold of my purse, I got out of the car and began the small walk over to where all the fruit and vegetable stands were operating, and I started to stroll. I noticed all the pretty, ripened fruits and vegetables and my mouth started watering. At first, I felt a little overwhelmed by all the choices, but then I started to ask myself, “What would I like to eat?” and it made the decisions easier. I began to purchase all the things that made me happy. I began to purchase what I wanted.

As I walked along, I began to notice all the shop girls. Of course, there were many boys there too, but it was the girls that caught my attention. They wore shorts, T-shirts and running shoes. Their skin was flushed and sweaty from standing outside in the sun for many hours. Their hair was bound up in ponytails or clipped up in messy buns. They watched the crowd expectantly, and helped customers with their purchases. They made change easily and with a friendly smile.

These girls struck me so forcefully, I was stopped in my tracks. I had a strong feeling, sort of like deja vu, but in reverse. A long time ago, I used to be one of those girls. In the small town where I grew up, I worked at a vegetable stand one summer. It was located at the very end of a long, dusty, rural street that I biked on every day, and it intersected with the main street of tiny, Cottam, Ontario. You could blink as you were driving and pass the entire area by. I remember standing out under the trees behind the market table, making small talk with customers, bagging their vegetables and making change. It felt so odd to be on the other side of the table this time.

As I watched them, time warped oddly for a few moments as I dropped into the experience of being a young market girl, and then morphed back into my current experience of being a middle-aged customer standing silently in front of the vegetable stand, trying to decide what I wanted to buy. For those few moments, time broke free of its bounds and started to bend back on itself. It was an odd sensation. Time isn’t linear, I’m discovering as I age. The longer you live, the more your experiences seem to overlap one another in mysterious ways.

Once I’d gotten my head back in order, I resumed my walk among the stalls. The sun felt warm on my face, and the smells of ripening fruit and crisp vegetables were everywhere. I loved the sound of being among people, many different people. There was a low hum of voices and activity as people talked with one another, and exchanged money and produce between them. It felt comfortable and familiar, like a well worn shoe. There was absolutely nothing stressful about the experience at all, and that meant everything.

They say it’s the small things in life that bring you joy, and that’s absolutely true. Wonders like this one – a simple trek to the farmer’s market – can nurture happiness if we really pay attention. Over the next year or so, I’ve decided that I will share with you all the little pleasures I find, as I journey on my way back from burn-out. Every time I have an encounter that sparks my spirit back into being, I will write about it. Come along with me, if you like. Maybe it will help you re-discover the wonder in your life too.

According to Chinese medicine, we are now in peak Spleen time. This is the time of year, often referred to as Indian summer, when the days are warm, dry and still. There is an air of solidity and gravity, as if the world finally decided to slow down, relax, and enjoy the fruit of all its labours. It is a time of pause and reflection before the world subtly tilts on its axis and we are nudged into autumn.

If you have a weak Spleen, this is when it would be most advantageous to strengthen it, as Spleen tonics have their most powerful effect. And atractylodes rhizome, our herb of the month, would be a great herb of choice for that purpose.

You may have noticed that I have been capitalizing the world ‘Spleen’ so far in this article. This is because the Spleen, as described in Chinese medicine is quite different from the spleen in Western medicine. In Western medicine, the spleen is a mostly useless organ, which has some ability to filter blood and buffer the immune system. However, in Chinese medicine, the Spleen includes the functions of the pancreas and is considered a major organ for digestion, as well as for the strength of your immune system and the generation of Qi for your entire body.

So, what are some signs that your Spleen may be weak and in need of strengthening? You would tend to feel fatigued often. This fatigue is often not just a feeling of tiredness, but also of heaviness, like you are dragging the world behind you. Your appetite may be low and you might experience bloating afterwards. When you eat, your food may not be digested well and you can still see bits of it in your stool, which may tend towards diarrhea. If you don’t have diarrhea, your stool may be “sticky”. (You need to wipe a lot, and there may be a smear in your toilet after you flush. Sorry for the graphic images!) Your immune system will tend to be weak, so you will catch colds and flus easily. You may also tend towards anemia, or have low blood volume.

These are the kinds of health conditions that are not severe enough to contact a doctor, but if you have them, you definitely don’t feel well. If you were to contact a doctor, he would also have little ability to help you. There are very few Western herbs that might nudge your Spleen in the right direction. But this particular area of personal health, is where Chinese medicine really shines. The Chinese herbal pharmacopia includes at least a dozen herbs that can be used to strengthen Spleen functioning, and actractylodes root, the herb we’re focusing on this month, is one of them.

Atractylodes root is warming and drying, the perfect combination of properties to stabilize an organ which tends towards cold and dampness. It is used to strengthen digestion, resolve diarrhea, improve appetite, reduce fatigue, and dispel edema. It can even be used to help prevent miscarriage, particularly for women who feel a draggy sensation in their pregnancy, or who tend towards unexplained bleeding. Atractylodes rhizome will give your body strength and support as you carry your baby to term.

Unfortunately, warming and drying herbs like atractylodes can tend to cause “heat” to develop in your body. This is why they are best combined with more cooling herbs to balance their effects. This will allow you to take them long term with fewer side effects. Our Chinese Bitters tincture contains atractylodes rhizome, and its function there is to add support to your spleen while you open up the ducts of your liver to remove any heat or stagnation there. Atractylodes root is also in our Meta Plus tincture, where it is used to more directly strengthen the Spleen. Here, it is paired with more cooling herbs, such as the neutral poria mushroom, and the cooling scutellaria root and cassia seeds to balance its warming and drying nature.

Do you think atractylodes rhizome might be right for you? Consider trying either of the above two tinctures, prepared with care at our Toronto facility. And if not, be sure to bask in the warm, dry energy of Spleen time before the cold and dampness of winter sets in. May you experience peace as summer slowly winds itself down.

Welcome to the second edition of the Waayyy Behind Book Club, where I talk about the books I’ve been reading this month, and encourage your feedback. I didn’t read quite as many this month, as some of them were really long! It took me awhile to finish them.

First on our list this month is The Good German by Dennis Bock. This was an alternate history, where one of those many attempts to assassinate Hitler actually succeeded! Contrary to what you might expect, Hitler’s death did not end the war, though. In this version of history, Herman Goring takes control of the country after Hitler is killed, and Germany actually wins! What does this mean for the US and Canada, or for the rest of Europe for that matter? It was an interesting exercise in speculative history. A little dark for my taste.

The second book this month is When the Body Says ‘No’, by Gabor Mate. I’ve been interested in ways to overcome emotional trauma ever since I watched the film The Wisdom of Trauma about a year ago. This was a compassionate and thought-provoking movie based on Gabor Mate’s work, and really opened my eyes to how prevalent trauma is, and what we might do to heal it. Here is a link to the movie trailer, if you’re interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=70HNmSsJvVU. The book did not disappoint. If you’re at all interested in how our emotions and core beliefs might contribute to illnesses like cancer, ALS, and MS, among others, this book is a gem.

Our final book this month is Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. There’s a reason why I named this book club the Waayyy Behind Book Club ! This book was originally published in 1989. So many people have recommended this book to me over the years that I’ve simply lost count. I finally added it to my reading list so I wouldn’t put off reading it any longer.

You get hooked into this story right from the beginning, when you are drawn into a small town where an unjust execution is taking place. It’s an spell-binding scene. The book is set in medieval UK, and is essentially about the building of a cathedral. The characters are well-drawn and likeable – they’d have to be for you to stick with them for the length of this book (1,008 pages)! The story continues through a couple of generations before the cathedral is finally built.

The book was so popular that there are now two sequels, and a prequel. I think I might take a break from the Pillars world for a little while before embarking on any of those! I can see why so many people love the book, though. I grew to love so many of the characters. They were drawn so realistically, I felt like I actually knew them.

If you’ve already read some of these books, or if you want to read any of these books, let me know. I’d love to hear what you think of them.

I joined a writing class recently, and one of the exercises was to take a decade of your life and compress it all into a single page of three-word sentences. One page. Only three words per sentence. It takes a lot of thought. What do you put in? What do you keep out? The point of the exercise is to summarize your life experience as compactly as possible. To remove anything superfluous and discover what is truly important to you.

Before embarking on this exercise, I read, and was inspired by the writing of many others in my class. They made it look so easy. Through this exercise, you could quickly see the focus in each of their lives. There is something about the three word sentence that leaves no room for prevarication. It’s simple and to the point. It makes things crystal clear.

But when I compressed my own life into a single page of three word sentences, I was struck by how sad it was. The previous decade of my life has been filled with mountains of all sizes. Lots of climbing. Lots of sorrow. There were plenty of times when everything seemed completely lost. Hadn’t I reached bottom yet? How was it even possible for more things to go wrong? Was anyone else finding life this hard, or was it just me?

It’s funny, but I began the last decade thinking that life would now be easier for me. That it would be on an up-swing from that point on. I figured I had served my time as a daughter, wife and mother. My children were growing up and starting to make their own, adult-sized decisions. I decided that the next decade would be just for me. For the first time in my life, I would focus on myself and my own growth.

Well, I did grow, but not in the way I thought I would. I look back now on the woman I once was, and I can see how naive she was. I can see how much she still had to learn. I can see all the painful moments that she will soon be facing, and I can think of no way to warn her. On the other hand, I can also say that, even knowing what I know now, I would still have made the same choices. I may have been naive, and I may have made some mistakes along the way, but I knew what was important to me, and I was willing to fight for it. I stayed true to myself. There is a certain peace that comes from that.

What all of this boils down to, is how proud I am of myself this month. That long decade of pain and sadness, all those years that I struggled to summarize in my writing exercise, did end on a bright note, after all: I was able to realize a long-held dream. Since I was a young mother, I have loved the practice of yoga, and dreamed of one day becoming a yoga teacher. However, I doubted my ability to complete the gruelling 250 hour yoga teacher training that would be required, especially after I became sick with CFS. I wasn’t sure my strength would hold up. I wasn’t sure I would have the energy. Well, this past year, I finally did it! I actually completed the training! It’s hard to believe. Not only did I complete the training, but I have now taught my first two classes!

If I were to give a message to my former self – to that woman of ten years ago – I think I would tell her to persevere. During those long, dark nights of the soul, I know that is what she most needs to hear. I might warn her that the next decade will be more challenging for her than anything she has experienced yet. But I would also tell her that she will be OK. That she has all the support she needs, both within herself and around her, to get through it. I would tell her that, even though there will be plenty of days when things seem dark and hopeless, there are many people who love her. And I would tell her to lean into that love.

I would especially tell her to soften towards herself. To show herself more of the kindness and care that she regularly shows to others. One of the big lessons I learned over the last number of years, is that the people who love me don’t care if I succeed or if I fail. They don’t care what clothes I wear, or if I’m rich or poor. They just want me to be happy, and they will do everything in their power to support me in that effort. I’ve been humbled by their care. My heart may have been broken into a million pieces over the last few years, but these people have also helped me put it back together again. I’m incredibly grateful.

Right now, in the middle of a heat wave, it is pleasant to look up into the dark, night-time sky and reflect on the moon. It looks so cool and white out there among the stars. It glows in a way that refreshes, in comparison to the more glaring, strident rays of the sun.

In Chinese medicine, the moon is said to be cooling and yin, in contrast to the sun’s hot, yang brightness. It symbolizes such qualities as femininity, delicacy, darkness, gentleness, and renewal. And as the moon reflects these qualities, so does our herb of the month: unprocessed rehmannia root.

Rehmannia root, particularly the unprocessed version, is a wonderfully cooling herb. In contrast to the stronger, more forceful heat clearing properties of an herb like Chinese gentian (last month’s monograph), it cools gently, like the moon. It soothes and nourishes depleted and dried out tissues, plumping them up and adding a glow. It’s gentle, moistening qualities makes it good at relieving all symptoms related to dryness, such as deep thirst, dry mouth and throat, or dry constipation.

Rehmannia root also resembles the shape of the moon, being traditionally cut into a round, disc-like shapes. It is dark in colour, calling to mind the new moon and its mysterious qualities. And interestingly, its effects are felt most strikingly in the evening and night, as it helps to clear away hot flashes, night sweats, and low-grade afternoon fever.

Unprocessed rehmannia root has a specific action on the heart, the seat of emotion and compassion. It cools gently, without depleting. And since a cool, well nourished heart is essential for good sleep, rehmannia’s soothing qualities can be very helpful in curbing sleep issues, when the moon shines most brightly.

Finally, unprocessed rehmannia root is excellent at stopping any episodes of unexplained bleeding, such as bloody nose, spitting of blood, blood in the urine, or excessive menstrual bleeding. When blood escapes from tissues like this, it is said to be due to too much “heat” in the blood. By directly cooling the blood, rehmannia root calms its stormy nature, and keeps it contained so that unexplained bleeding is stopped.

Raw rehmannia root is one of the ingredients in our Shou Wu Plus tincture, a product I often recommend to people after they have completed a long period of liver and gallbladder flushing. It moistens tissues and nourishes organs that may have become depleted through the cleansing process. It cools the heart, liver and kidneys and can improve sleep. Because it nourishes the heart so effectively, it can also help to quell feelings of anxiety, agitation, and nervousness.

If you think your body would benefit from the gentle, compassionate, soothing qualities of the moon, why not give our Shou Wu Plus tincture a try?

A few weeks ago, I had an unfortunate accident. It was a minor one, and a silly one, really, but it had consequences that have put me in a bit of a funk. What happened? I stubbed my pinky toe on the foot of my living room couch and fractured it. Yes, fractured it! It’s just another example of the kind of general clumsiness that I often exhibit. I seem to have a lack of awareness of my physical boundaries, and when I’m rushed or stressed it often results in some kind of injury.

My schedule is pretty busy, and so I remember staring at that fractured toe for awhile, even as it throbbed painfully. The way I saw it, I had a couple of options: I could just leave it and keep hobbling on through the rest of the day, ignoring the pain. It would no doubt feel better eventually. But as I continued to stare at that toe, now pointed out 45 degrees in the wrong direction, I knew deep down in my gut that it needed attention. It looked obviously broken.

I was still reluctant to take action, though. It would mean putting people out. Someone would have to drive me to the hospital, maybe even sit with me while I was there. The waiting would likely take hours, completely ruining the rest of the evening. The more people got dragged into this, the more unhappiness it would create. And all because of my clumsiness.

But when I showed my toe to my husband, Mike, he was decisive and uncomplaining. He got up right away, helped me into the car and drove me to the hospital. If COVID hadn’t changed the rules, he would’ve willingly sat with me in the waiting room and made an effort to entertain me as I stared despondently at my foot. I know he would have because throughout our marriage, he’s always been the strong one. I’ve never known him to grumble or gripe about anything, and there’s been plenty of things he could’ve griped about.

This whole situation got me thinking about support, and how important it is to each of us. None of us gets anywhere in life without someone to support us. The support could be financial. It could be emotional. It could even just be physical – the simple lending of hands when you’re about to move, the chopping and stirring when you’re trying to cook, the walking of the dog when you’re too sick to get off the couch.

I’ve been fortunate in my life to have had the support of many different people. I’m indebted to my parents for raising me up in the first place, to my aunts and uncles who kept their doors open, and lent me a shoulder to cry on in times of trouble. To my in-laws, who welcomed me into their home and supported me financially when I became ill. To my husband, of course. No words are sufficient to express the level of gratitude I feel towards him on a daily basis.

Over the long weekend, I travelled back home, to the small town where I grew up, and had the chance to visit with old friends. The joy I felt at reconnecting with these friendly, familiar faces was unbounded, and I realized just then how much they have supported me too. Not only do they show up for me each time I visit home, taking time out of their busy schedules to meet up, but they also provide emotional support. They make an effort to understand me, to offer their sympathy for whatever I’m going through, and most importantly, they’ve taught me how to dance in the rain.

Each of my friends have contended with a host of problems throughout their adult lives, among them spousal abuse, divorce, single motherhood, teen pregnancy, chronic anxiety, and even major heart surgery. I think it’s safe to say that none of us quite expected our lives turn out the way they did. It’s also safe to say that each of us have learned through these experiences what truly matters: friendship, humility, kindness, and that all-important ability to laugh, no matter what your circumstances. We do a lot of laughing.

And so, as I stare at the air boot that now protects my pinky toe, I see another example of the value of support. I know this boot will not heal me. I know that my foot will still hurt. I know that I will still find it difficult to walk, and half the summer will be gone before I can enjoy a good hike. There are no magical powers here.

But like all the other supports in my life, things have become infinitely easier because of it. Enveloped by its protection, I can actually walk without limping. I am protected from further injury. I continue to heal, and I heal more quickly. And as I consider the level of protection that surrounds both me and my foot, I understand what it all truly means. It means that, despite everything, even my clumsiness, I am loved.

Introducing the Waayyy Behind Book Club! Inspired by a book-crazy friend of mine, I thought I’d post every month about the books I’ve been reading. I am an English Literature Major, so understandably, reading is a particular passion of mine. I read, on average, about one book per week, although sometimes I read more than that, depending on how much free time I have. If I have difficulty sleeping, I reach for a book. If I’m stressed, I reach for a book. If I’m bored, I reach for a book. A lot of reading tends to get done when books become your emotional crutch!

Keep in mind that these will NOT be current reads (hence the name “Waayyy Behind”). I find it far too stressful to keep up with what’s currently popular. The books I list here will be old, out of the news, perhaps even forgotten. They will have been recommended to me by friends. I might have read an interesting article about them, or perhaps I saw them on some kind of “Best of” list.

Feel free to comment on my picks if you’ve read the same book yourself. Or, if a book piques your interest, ask me about it and I’ll be happy to give you an overview. You can even suggest other books to me if you think I might like them. I -love- to talk about books, so all comments are welcome and valued!

Without further ado, the books I’ve read this month are: Influenza by John M Barry, Anne of Avonlea by Lucy Maud Montgomery, The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri, The Lake by Banana Yoshimoto, In an Unspoken Voice by Peter Levine, and Gaudy Night by Dorothy L Sayers.

Influenza was particularly intriguing, as it chronicled the 1918 pandemic. You could tell the author meant some of the events to shock us (The streets were empty because everyone was afraid to go out! People were wearing masks everywhere! People would pick up goods outside of shops rather than enter them! ), but having experienced pretty much the same thing over the last few years, I could only nod, wearily. Their pandemic experience was different from ours in a number of ways, and if you’re curious, I can provide more details.

Anne of Avonlea is the second book in Lucy Maud Montgomery’s famous Anne of Green Gables series. I realized recently that I’ve never read further than the first book, even though I love the main character. So, that’s why this old book suddenly appeared on my reading list this month.

The Namesake, The Lake, and Gaudy Night were books I had read articles about, and heard were very good. Both The Namesake and The Lake have won some awards, and Gaudy Night is considered by many to be the best of Dorothy L Sayers books. (She’s a famous crime novelist from the last century).

I think my favourite book this month was In an Unspoken Voice by Peter Levine. It was a fascinating book about the Polyvagal Theory and how our bodies hold trauma. It even included some exercises you could do to release blocked energy from your own body. I learned a lot. It turns out that thinking or talking about traumatic experiences does little to actually heal them. Self-compassion and a willingness to feel difficult emotions is key.

So, what have you been reading lately? Anything good?

On a lovely summer’s day last week, my son and his girlfriend finally graduated from university. I say ‘finally’ because, like all paths undertaken during the last few years, their journey has not been an easy one. Confused, distraught, and occasionally boxed in, they’ve persevered regardless.

Like all students during the pandemic, their classes were up-ended, changing overnight from in-person to on-line. Discussions with their teachers, once so easy to initiate, suddenly became obstacle courses of frustration. Everyone had questions and concerns, and email inboxes were quickly overrun. Opportunities that had taken months to set up, were washed by the wayside, possibly never to return. It was easy to become discouraged.

In the midst of all that, we were also dealing with big familial stresses. Julia had been moved into a nursing home less than two years before, and although she had been in excellent health for years, she was starting to decline. Just when she needed us, it was virtually impossible to visit with her. Relatives from far away were confused about what was going on, and needed to be assuaged. Supports that we thought would hold firm, swayed and then broke.

Work was also difficult. No one knew how well Julia’s business would fare during the pandemic, and it was already reeling from the loss of her. Her self, her voice, her story. She had always been the heart and soul of our business, and now, in addition to that uncertainty, we were now dealing with the world shifting beneath our feet. We had no reassurances. We had no idea what might happen.

There were days when it was extremely difficult to get out of bed. I would try to think of something good to look forward to, anything positive to propel me forward. On many days, food felt like the only thing good in my life – the possibility of a nice grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. That first cup of hot coffee. On other days, it was the serenity of the park as I walked my dog, watching the trees gently shifting above me.

We pulled together as a family. We put one foot in front of the other, and just kept going. Sometimes soft encouragement did the trick. Sometimes active pulling was required. Every once in awhile, someone would break down and need extra emotional support. We did the best we could to attend to everyone’s needs. I’m immensely proud of the way we’ve held each other together and supported one another through this extended series of challenges.

My sons learned valuable lessons along the way. Don’t give up. Keep focused on the job before you. Try not to become distracted by worries and fears that may not come true. Look out for one another. Be kind. Always be mindful of how someone else might be struggling. Don’t judge. Listen closely and show compassion.

And now, after such a long journey through a world fraught with darkness, it feels good to finally celebrate a clear win. I have nothing but hope for these two. I fervently wish that their next few steps will be easier. It is my hope that they continue to walk with confidence towards their future, in a world that is still quaking with change.

The last few years have been so difficult for so many of us. More than anything, I wish the same things to all of you. May your hopes be fulfilled and your future bright. May challenges that once seemed impossible be suddenly swept away. Thank you to everyone who has supported, and continues to support us throughout these challenging times. You mean the world to us.

Our herbal monograph of the month is Chinese gentian, the main ingredient in our Chinese Bitters tincture.

There are many herbs in the gentian family, used all over the world. All are valued for their positive effect on liver health and liver functioning. However, the particular form of gentian that we use, with the Latin name of gentian scabra, came to Julia’s attention many years ago when one of her uncles was told he had not long to live by a Western doctor.

According to the family, he was 67 years old and his liver was failing, causing him to feel tired and weak. His hands became dark in colour due to poor blood supply. A Chinese doctor prescribed Chinese gentian to him, and after using this herb for a number of months, his situation was completely reversed. His liver was returned to health and he ended up living to the ripe old age of 90.

This family story made quite an impression on Julia, so when she was told that her own liver was weak and congested, there was no question that she would take Chinese gentian herself. Before creating her own unique tincture containing Chinese gentian, she read many classic Chinese herbal texts, searching out as many different formulas as she could, before coming up with her own. She knew that her own formula would need to be special – it would have to be free of estrogenic activity. Otherwise, it risked flaring her symptoms of endometriosis.

According to Chinese medicine, Chinese gentian is known to clear damp-heat from the liver area. In Western terms, this means it reduces inflammation in the liver, and also helps to release excess fluids from the body. Oral ingestion of Chinese gentian has been shown to increase the production and excretion of bile in dogs[1]. It also has hepato-protective (liver protective) effects in mice[2], and has had good results in treating high liver enzyme levels and chronic hepatitis[3]. It has strong anti-bacterial properties, protecting against salmonella, and staphylococcus infections, among other types of bacteria[4].

Our Chinese Bitters tincture is one of our most popular tinctures. Customers use it for several weeks to prepare for a liver and gallbladder flush, and then, even after their flushing is done, they continue to take Chinese Bitters regularly for years because they find it so helpful. If you are interested in learning more about Chinese gentian, or our Chinese Bitters tincture, give us a call, or send us an email.

1. Yun Nan Yi Yao (Yunan Medicine and Herbology), 1991; 12(5):304
2. Ibid.
3. Shang Hai Zhong Yi Yao Za Zhi (Shanghai Journal of Chinese Medicine and Herbology), 1965; 4:4
4. Zhong Yao Yao Li Yu Ying Yong (Pharmacology and Applications of Chinese Herbs), 1983; 295

It’s been difficult for me to talk about Julia’s decline and death. For the last few months, I have felt simultaneously wrenched and yet also numb. Silenced. Muted. It’s been too much to process. Too much to feel. Julia was such a large presence in my life. When I look around at her home, at her business, at all the things she left behind, I still can’t believe that she’s gone.

We didn’t exactly get on right away, Julia and I. When I first met her back in the year 1990, she was aloof, suspicious, and distrustful. I had just started dating her son and she wasn’t inclined to like me. I can still remember how she looked then. The skin on her face still had a dark-ish tinge about the sides, and she looked tired. She hadn’t yet learned how to heal herself, and so her demeanour was bitter and weary. When I said ‘hello’, she looked down at the ground and self-consciously patted her hair into place. I wondered how I, a young 20 year old girl, could possibly make her nervous.

As I look back now, I don’t think I made her nervous at all. Those gestures were merely a way for Julia to examine me more closely without appearing too obvious about it. In truth, she had most likely already made a judgment about me. Julia lived her life by following her gut instincts, and she trusted those explicitly. If she got a negative feeling about you, from something you said or did, that feeling would be exceptionally hard to shift. I don’t think I passed her test on that first day we met, but somehow, over the next three years, I did.

I knew that I had passed her test because, suddenly, out of the blue, she asked me to come help her at her health food store. She didn’t have to do that. By that time, I had been married to her son for almost a year and had just graduated from university. I was looking for work, and Julia said she could use some help. We figured we could help each other out. And so our humble journey together began.

If you worked for Julia at that time, you couldn’t help but respect her. Deep respect. Customers would come for miles to get her advice, and this was before she started selling her own Chinese herbal tinctures. They would ask her advice about which supplements to take, which foods to eat, which foods not to eat. She spoke with such intelligence and knowledge. I was in awe of her. One night, I sat at the dinner table with her, long after everyone else had left, and listened to her personal story. She was incredible. So smart, and yet so humble. A vulnerable little bird who hadn’t yet come into her power. I will always remember that special time.

In the years that followed, Julia and I worked more closely together. I became her right-hand man. I helped her manufacture her products. I answered email for her for years. We consulted with one another about her customers late at night, bouncing ideas off of one another. But make no mistake, it was always Julia who was in charge. It was she who made the decisions, and they were usually bang on.

And so it was very difficult for me, for all of us, when Julia began to decline. When her decisions stopped making sense. She would forget things, and Julia never forgot things. She, who had always been so sharp, began to do and say things that were definitely off. She forgot the names of common objects. She couldn’t tell what time of day it was. Long-time customers that had come to see her for years were suddenly forgotten. We would confer with one another. Is this normal? Should we be concerned?

It turns out, we needed to be concerned. The last five or six years have been tumultuous, to say the least. For, even as her memory slip-ups and judgment errors increased in number and severity, Julia never would accept that she had a problem. Up until the very end, she still believed that she was fully in control of herself. That she alone knew all the answers. She’d been deeply independent and distrustful of other people her entire life, so when we tried to place limits on her freedom, she could only ever see it as a personal attack. It was a very painful and difficult time.

Even when she was finally confined to a nursing home, she found a way to stay in charge. In her own mind, she was still going to work each day, and doing important things. She would tell the other patients that they needed to cleanse their liver. She would continually harass them for payment. “Where is your receipt?” she would demand. It was kind of funny, but it was also incredibly sad.

We finally lost Julia this past February. Although, in truth, we had already lost her years before. During our last visits with her in the nursing home, before the pandemic, I would watch her face, ask her questions. It was difficult to get her to sit still. She continued to believe she had work to do. That she was far too busy to sit and talk. And then, when the pandemic happened, visiting with her became almost impossible. During her last weeks, we had to watch her slowly decline over Zoom calls. She had lost the ability to swallow, and just withered away.

I feel privileged to have known, and been close to, such an incredible woman. I learned so much from her over the years. Many of her thousands of customers have told me the same. She inspired people. She changed lives. There are many pictures of her around our house, so I still ‘see’ her every day. I think of her often. I know that I will never forget her. She has left her mark on me, so she now comes along with me wherever I go, living through my eyes, and feeling through my heart.

If it is at all possible, I know she’s still having an impact, wherever she is. That’s just the kind of person that Julia was. Original. Exceptional. Unforgettable. I hope you rest peacefully, Julia.