sweet
flag /
bitterroot
Acorus calamus, A.
americanus
I probably know calamus
more deeply than any other plant I’ve worked with, yet
in spite of that (or perhaps because of it…) I
find it most difficult to capture what I know of it in a
way that adequately conveys its essential nature; its
medicine. Perhaps this is because calamus is not a
plant that facilitates “capturing” on any level, but
rather teaches us to yield to the flow of things and let
go of our needs for stark outlines and delineations.
Still, this plant has clearly offered itself to me not
only to learn from, but to share, and so that I’ll try
to do here…
Acorus calamus is a
semi-aquatic plant that likes to grow with “wet feet”,
often alongside Irises, Cattails, and other waterweeds.
It likes the edges of ponds, lakes, and rivers, but I've
seen it growing in drier soil as well. This is
usually due to seasonal water fluctuations... less rain,
and it's no longer in the water because the edge of the
pond has receded. The leaves are
similar to Cattail or Iris leaves, being sword shaped, and
from 2 1/2 to 3 feet in length. Calamus leaves, though,
are a yellow-green in color, not blue-green, and have a
slightly wavy margin (edge) and a midrib. Easily, the
most effective way to identify the plant is to break off
and smell the leaves. Ahhhh… nothing else smells like
Sweet Flag. The root is a rhizome, which is really
not a root at all, but a horizontal stem that runs across the ground,
out of which come the actual roots (which most people
call rootlets, since they refer to the rhizome as the
root). It is marked by leaf
scars above, and produces abundant rootlets, which for the
most part go straight down, below. There are no stems;
the leaves rise directly from the rhizome.
Taxonomically,
Timothy Motley tells us
"Acorus calamus var. americanus comprises diploid
members that range in distribution from North America to
Siberia. The sterile triploid A. calamus var. calamus
is distributed throughout Europe, temperate India, and
the Himalayan region, and the tetraploid variety, A.
calamus var. angustatus is found in eastern and
tropical southern Asia including Japan and Taiwan."
I personally have little trust in the commercial
differentiation between these varieties, and generally
don't assume that roots being sold as "american calamus"
are actually Acorus calamus var. americanus; this
species is said to have
multiple midribs,
something I've never seen any commercial suppliers
display (hell, I've not seen them display any evidence
of authenticity).
The plant can very easily be cultivated from a root cutting, and will grow
quickly once established. I have several different
varieties growing in a non-draining planter that I keep
wet, and it thrives, producing flowers every year. I used
wild soil in the planter, and the seeds and roots that
came along with have all happily sprouted, offering a
little wetland ecosystem that, when I was living on the
third floor of an apartment building, the birds and
insects delighted in. Though it was once adamantly
insisted at me that "mosquito larvae can't grow in water
that calamus grows in(!)", I routinely need to dump the
standing water out of my planters because they can (and
do) indeed.
The root is used
medicinally, but added sparingly, the leaves can be steeped into an elegant
if unusual tea or used for a unique smudge. They are
incredibly nice to simply bruise and smell, and they’ve
been long used strewn across floors to release their
enlightening scent as they’re walked upon. If
collecting the plant, keep in mind that as an aquatic,
it’s going to have taken up whatever’s in the water it’s
growing in, which you may not want to chew on.
Ironically, the invading Mongols used to plant calamus
in any source of water they intended to drink from,
believing it would purify the water in which it grew.
This act gave rise to one of its old folk names,
“Mongolian Poison”… people were generally freaked out if
they found it growing somewhere they hadn’t seen it
before. Coming upon it in the wild, I always
quickly scan the area for any such invading Mongols, but
so far haven’t seen a one, and perhaps this teaches us
that folklore, while certainly valuable, isn't always
universally true…
There are many
differing varieties within the species, and medicinal
activity varies greatly between these; both in strength
and effect. In
King's American Dispensatory it is written
that "Persian and East Indian calamus is said to be of
better quality than that of other parts of the world".
This is an opinion I disagree with... these varieties are
more heavily aromatic, but not necessarily of "better
quality" outside of the virtues associated with its
aromatic oils. Indian calamus seems to contain higher
concentrations of volatile oils, and act more strongly on
the digestion than less aromatic varieties. This preference in the
Eclectic tradition may account for the focus on calamus as
a predominantly digestive remedy, and explain why they
placed less emphasis on its other virtues. The best way
to determine the efficacy of a particular species or
variety is to taste it for relative degrees of warmth,
aromatics and bitterness.
As far as using
calamus goes, I personally favor chewing on the root,
fresh or dried; just a
few pieces to a small handful (a tablespoon or two) is
usually adequate over a day's time, but I don't stress on
or have a strong suggestion as to "dosage".
Chewed, its intake is more easily assessed by taste and
effect: want/need more? Chew on a bit more.
Feel fine? Don't chew on a bit more. If you’re lucky enough to have access
to whole roots, dry them that way and just nibble or gnaw
off the ends as desired. If you’ve got a particularly strong
variety, you might just break off a bit, give it a few
cursory chews, and then tuck it into your cheek to suck
on... you don't chew it like bubble gum. Vigorously chewing a big hunk of strong root will
make you take a step or two backwards, shudder, and
perhaps grimace.
Did I mention it’s a
little bitter? Some people just complain, complain,
complain… They’ll either spit it out at once and look at
me suspiciously whenever I offer them anything (even years
later), or they’ll be calling me for “more of that stuff”,
realizing they’ve been craving bitter for years and never
knew it. I know lots of people who now consider calamus
among the best of the chewing roots, as I myself do.
People who chew calamus tend to understand the value of
chewing roots as an optimal means of using a plant,
because no other preparation represents its virtues as
well.
By preference I rarely use any
fluid preparations of calamus, although they may be indicated
and decidedly effective in
digestive complaints. A cold infusion can be made by
steeping the root overnight at the top of a jar filled
with cold water, and then drinking this throughout the
next day. I consider this the preferable way to prepare a
water-based preparation, though there seems to be some
cultural and personal preferences towards infusions or
decoctions (these are far less palatable to me). The root has also been candied by boiling the
transverse root slices in syrup, draining and drying, the
resulting confection being freely eaten for dyspepsia
(indigestion), or prepared by adding the extract to a
simple syrup (Felter; Eclectic Materia Medica,
Pharmacology & Therapeutics). Henriette Kress
has offered a very nice recipe for both
candies and a
sweet flag syrup.
Of course, many use and prefer tinctures, and while I've
certainly tasted a number of excellent tinctures (and an
alchemical spagyric or two), I don't find them as useful
as the chewed root. Still; it is an excellent
medicine, and can be made from the fresh or dried root.
Oh: you may have read that calamus loses its potency
after a year. While it is indeed true that the
aromatic oils will disperse and degrade, by no means
does calamus "lose its potency" or become "inert".
I've got a jar full of 15 year old calamus that I
occasionally pull out and chew on, and its still
certainly effective, if not as much as when I first put
it in the jar.
Calamus is a strong
deterrent to those dreadful insects that people so
dislike. Its use as a strewing herb - as in the
leaves being “strewn all
over the floor” - was likely practical (it’d keep
the bugs away) as well as spiritual (the scent uplifts
the spirit and dispels or diffuses "bad vibes"). I had the unpleasant
experience of living in a flea infested house in college,
and used the root powder on my ferret and our cats to repel fleas.
I will say that the cats, after immediately trying to
groom themselves, were none too pleased with me. I've also applied the essential oil to my windowsill to
ward off the big black ants that thought my old apartment
was a grocery store, with complete success. A bit of
the essential oil diluted in alcohol and sprayed into
the burrows of carpenter bees and on yellow jacket nests
encourage the insects to vacate and doesn't require
their death.
So now I’ll endeavor to
cover the medicinal aspects of calamus. You might notice
that as I go on, the virtues described become a bit more…
well, you’ll see. Also, it should be noted that as
wonderful as the classic Eclectic texts are, they’re
generally lacking in terms of what they tell us of calamus.
Occasionally they’ll hint at its deeper virtues, but
rarely more than that. This is rather odd, since the
Eclectics learned so much about so many of their plant
medicines from the Native Americans, and the Native
Americans esteem calamus as one of the most useful,
important, and Sacred of the herbs they use (and rightly so)...
The foundational actions evident in
calamus are presented most clearly by its strong bitter,
spicy and aromatic nature. This is an excellent
blend of properties, as in relation to digestion, most
herbal traditions agree that bitter tonic herbs are best
complimented by warming aromatic spices... in calamus,
all of these virtues are present in one plant.
Accordingly, most of the available information on
the traditional western uses of Sweet Flag focuses on its
use as a digestive bitter and carminative used for
treating cramps and flatulent colic. As such, calamus
root stimulates digestive secretions and peristalsis, and
expels gas. The
British Pharmaceutical Codex states that
"On account of a volatile oil which is present it also
acts as a carminative, removing the discomfort caused by
flatulence and checking the growth of bacteria that give
rise to it", which notes its antimicrobial properties.
Think about it in people whose deficient gut
function/sluggish metabolism results in
food fermenting inside them before it can be digested
properly. Quite a few years ago now, a 20 year
old woman came to me after being admitted to the hospital
for intense abdominal pain; she'd thought she was having a
gall bladder attack or an appendicitis, but it ended up
being a result of gas (yes, it can hurt that much). Shortly
after the visit, she felt a recurrence of symptoms, and I
recommended she drink fennel tea in the mornings and
evenings, and chew dried calamus root throughout the day
as desired. I considered her diet rather poor
(understatement), but she
showed little interest in changing it. Within a week all
symptoms disappeared. She stopped drinking the fennel tea
but continued to chew calamus root, as she stated that she
had "acquired a taste for it". The gas had not returned
as a problem for the next year or two that I ran into
her... this is after most of her life as being
"chronically gassy", and with little dietary change. Nice.
Candied calamus root was (and is, in
some places) eaten for treating dyspepsia, heartburn, and
indigestion. The dried root can be chewed as well, and is
probably preferable, and equally if not more effective
(compliance considered).
Calamus Root is
recommended by
Felter & Lloyd for "feebleness of the
digestive organs", and
Cook for "purely atonic
dyspepsia". In this regard, it likely isn't
restoring tone as a result of an astringent action (I've
seen this property attributed to the plant, but it's not
one that presents itself to the palate in any variety
I've tasted), but as a bitter tonic. As a digestive bitter,
Sweet Flag has the effect of stimulating appetite,
increasing secretions, and stimulating peristalsis to
tell the digestive tract to get ready for food.
Though definitely and overtly stimulating, it also
relaxes interfering tension.
Chewing Calamus can
effectively allay the nausea of motion sickness - car or
air or whatever; anything characterized by what I call a
"dizzy/queasy" feeling in the stomach - this is a primary
indication for its use. I've used it driving
through the Appalachian Mountains from Tennessee to North
Carolina, when the roads were either all up and curvy, or
all down and curvy. Chewing just a little bit (perhaps a
1/2 tablespoon, a bit at a time) brought lasting relief. For a “nervous
stomach”, or nausea associated with panic and anxiety
attacks, it is among the first herbs I think of; again, a
little bit can be chewed as needed. The "a bit"
part is really important to take note of... large doses
could easily overstimulate the stomach and provoke
vomiting. This is a fairly common occurrence when
people try to take a lot of the powder mixed in water.
So start with just the teeniest bit to see if it helps.
I'm not inclined to use it for nausea related to
pregnancy - you'd probably find it universally included
in "do not take" lists, on account of its asarone
content (to be discussed later), and though I don't
think the asarones are "toxic" as is suggested, it's
still more of an overtly medicinal plant than I like to
use in pregnancy.
Calamus can serve as
a wonderful breath freshener (or, well, I think so…
I suppose it depends on how you feel about the flavor). My wife
once fell asleep with a root in her mouth and woke up
without a hint of morning breath (I’m afraid I’ll keep my
means of discerning this to myself…). Mmmm...
While there is
a considerable history of folk usage for treating diarrhea
and dysentery, I've never used the plant for these
purposes... possessing strong antimicrobial actions along
with it's bitter tonic actions, I can see the reasoning,
though I'd be less inclined to use strong bitter
varieties (which would encourage bile release) with
loose stool, unless blended into a formula with more
active astringents. Even then, I'd use it with a
light hand.
Because aromatic bitters
stimulate appetite by stimulating digestion, it
may be a valuable consideration for addressing anorexia.
As it also
possesses a very effective anti-anxiety effect, and
anxiety is a major instigator in eating disorders, methinks
calamus would be an
invaluable ally for those seeking to overcome this
disorder. That said, you likely can't just take an
herb and not have anorexia anymore. Here, the
digestive action of the plant melds with its role as an
ally in helping one address deeper seated issues in
their lives.
Looking at these uses, we can see calamus as a medicine
for deficient/sluggish/stagnant digestive states,
associated with tension, and perhaps infection or
putrification. As it is overtly stimulating, it
wouldn't be an ideal remedy for GI excess states, with
rapid transit and loose stools - at least, not on its
own.
Traditional western
herbalism offers very little information on calamus that
extends beyond what’s been covered here. Now we must turn
and honor the Native peoples who still use this plant
widely, commonly referring to it as “bitterroot”
throughout North America. Of
course, many other plants are called by this name and some
of them certainly shouldn’t be chewed on (dogbane comes to
mind). Below you’ll notice I start using sweet
flag,
bitterroot and calamus interchangeably.
Of course, indigenous
peoples knew all of the digestive virtues of calamus and
used it accordingly, but they also expanded its
applications. Kelly Kindscher reports in
his "Medicinal Wild Plants of the Prairie" about the use
of Bitterroot by contemporary Native American tribes
curing adult onset diabetes: “When diabetics chewed the
root regularly, they were reported cured within a few
months. In the 1950s when Howard reported this use of
calamus, he cited cases of Indian diabetics who had been
“given up” by white doctors, but who were later cured by
calamus.” Here, again, I’ve not got the slightest bit of
experience, but can say that I talked with a woman a few
years ago who told me that on the Pine Ridge Reservation,
they used a decoction of Bitterroot and Marshmallow roots
with good success in diabetes. There is evidence
that calamus
increases insulin sensitivity,
may possess hypoglycemic effects,
and the effects of calamus as a bitter would help with
nutrient assimilation as well, which would be an
assisting factor to consider. It's important to
realize that while calamus could serve as an important
medicine, diet and lifestyle factors would also need to
be addressed - you couldn't just use calamus and "cure"
your diabetes.
Bitterroot excels in
addressing throat colds, sore throats, irritable coughs,
chest colds, and head colds. It is considered an
effective antihistamine; clearing stuffy sinuses and
helping dispel mucous, but I'd attribute this action to
its aromatic oils. If the congestion is all packed up
in your head, your nasal passages are blocked and
you feel enveloped by a hazy dullness, chew on some root
and it’ll help disperse both the congestion and the haze.
Bitterroot is strongly antimicrobial; chewing the root not
only directly fights the infection (especially for throat colds),
but is also stimulating and helps to overcome the run down
feeling that you get with a cold (though, of course, it should not be used as a means to “keep going” when you
really need to stay under the covers for a day or two). I
chew Bitterroot when I’m around other people who are sick
so I don’t get sick, and it rarely fails me; this is
another predominant use in many native cultures.
Stephen Buhner, in Sacred and Herbal Healing Beers,
recounts the tale of a Penobscot Medicine Man who has a
dream in which the muskrat shows him what plant he should
use to cure the affliction killing his people; that plant
being Bitterroot. In one of those few exceptions in which
western herbalism saw past the digestive tract, Salmon’s
Herbal proclaims it “a peculiar thing against poison, the
Plague and all contagious disease.”
Another way to use sweet
flag for head colds is as an oil nasya; the root is
infused in oil and water, and heated till all the water
is evaporated out of the mixture. After straining
the root out, the oil can then be snuffed... lay on you
back with your head tilted back a bit, apply a bit of
oil to the nostril and then snuff it into the sinuses.
This is exceptionally decongestant, not only to
the mucosa but to foggy perception as well. The
ayurvedists out there will thank me for saying that that
such a calamus oil (or "vacha oil"), being warming, is
better suited to kaphas and vatas than pittas.
Though I haven't yet (at
the time of this writing, anyways) used it for female
reproductive issues,
Henriette Kress shares
this: "Calamus root, chewed, is astonishing for the pain
from endometriosis. One of the few herbs we have for
that; cherish it..." The plant does have a
reputation for enhancing libido in both sexes... perhaps
the doctrine of signatures comes into play here?
maybe?
In the Inipi Ceremony, or
"sweat lodge", Bitterroot is chewed when the voice becomes
hoarse from singing, and also in reverence to the plant's
immense spiritual virtues. Michigan herbalist Joyce
Wardwell elaborated nicely on this once:
“At a Pow-Wow, a singer
may sing for hours. Voice gets tired, and a little root is
chewed. Calamus helps numb the vocal chords to allow the
singer to continue. Have to be careful - have met a couple
people who strained their vocal chords enough to cause
permanent damage. Calamus also helps center and focus the
energy to sing well, without clouding the mind or spirit.
A little piece is chewed (usually no more than one inch
root total for the whole week-end) and held in the mouth
between cheek and gum for a long time even after the
flavor is more or less gone. Sometimes, people don't even
chew the root, they just hold a piece in their mouth a few
minutes. Then it will help increase saliva, increase range
(yes it actually does - especially for high notes) and
center one's energy.”
Laryngitis, caused or
aggravated by speaking, yelling or singing is a specific
indication for its use. I chew it for weekend
teaching trips, where I'm talking loudly to groups of
people all day (just so they can hear; I'm not yelling
at them all...).
There are numerous references to the
use of Calamus as a stimulant, helping to boost the
stamina of weary travelers. It has been noted that Sweet
Flag is used similarly to the way Coca leaves were used by
South American Indians. It increases energy and allays
hunger (even though as a bitter it is used to stimulate
hunger). I've chewed it while backpacking when it's dusk
and I've been walking all day and my pack is heavy and I'm
a mile away from where I need to be to set up camp, and
found that it gave me extra vigor with which to continue
my trek. Again, I chew it for weekend teaching trips
as well, when I spend a good portion of a day
travelling, teach all day and socialize all night... it
keeps me going, clear and focused so I don't have to
teach through jet lag. In North America, Sweet Flag appears to have
been wild cultivated along trade roads by Native
Americans, presumably to be used for this purpose. This
is also anagalous to the use of Coca leaves, which were
essential to messengers traveling the Inca roads along the
Andes Mountains. It was common throughout North America
for Native American elders to chew the root to restore and
maintain vitality and vigor. As the oft quoted citation
goes, the size of the root chewed was often approximated
by the sized of the persons finger, but dosage varied
considerably from tribe to tribe. Certainly, though, the
more root is chewed the more the stimulation is manifested
physically.
The plant helps to stimulate attention,
as well. K.P. Khalsa tells of how students at the
Naturopathic school he teaches at will use some calamus
when they're up late studying, burning out, and have
been reading the same page over and over, but not taking
anything in. I've heard 7Song say that he'll pass
around some calamus tincture when attention starts to
wander away after a lot of teaching.
Though it may seem odd,
Calamus also excels as a relaxant, despite its stimulating
properties. "Stimulant" and "relaxant" shouldn't be
seen a contradictory uses occupying opposite ends of a
polarity: stimulating herbs increase the expression of
the vital force, while relaxants relax resistance
to that expression. they work together in a
complimentary fashion to achieve the same end: better
flow of energy and vitality. Calamus isn't a
sedative (it won't put you to
sleep), but can be incredibly effective in treating anxiety.
Incredibly effective. It is this virtue of the
plant that has really stood out to me, and set it wholly
apart from any other remedy I might consider to ease
anxiety. While seldom cited in any herbal literature,
there is evidence of this virtue if one looks for it.
Waller writes in his British Herbal that "It is of great
service in all nervous complaints, vertigoes, headaches
and hypochondriacal affections." Culpepper notes
that it "strengthens the stomach and head". There
are less
references from Native cultures, but probably because: a.)
they didn’t write stuff down, and b.) they might have
preferred to keep this information to themselves. While enthobotanists and friendly settlers were told much about
many medicinal plants, there were some plants and some
things about some plants that was kept close as sacred
knowledge. Personally, I learned about this virtue
through years of study with the plant, and later stumbled
upon this or that comment that verified what I’d learned.
I don't know of the mechanism of action for calamus's
ability to diffuse acute anxiety states. Its
aromatic oils likely clear perception, and perhaps its
bitterness plays a role as well. I had a
conversation with Matthew Wood once, all about bitters
and shuddering (the sensation we get when tasting
certain very bitter herbs). Matt says bitters can
"unloose the sympathetic" - that part of our nervous
system that is in charge when we're in
alert/fight/flight/freak/freeze states. Bitters
are grounding; they impress the senses decidedly, and
that can help bring people back into themselves.
Physiologically, bitters stimulate digestion (which is
suppressed in sympathetic states and encourage the
production of mood stabilizing secretions in the
digestive tract via the enteric nervous system.
Hmm… some words to
describe the effect of Sweet Flag: Calming. Centering.
Perspective. Joyce Wardwell once used the word
“Resolution”… that’s a good one. It’s tempting to say
that it instills “focus”, but focus isn’t
quite the right
word. “Focus” implies fixing the perception on a certain
aspect of something, and Sweet Flag tends to open one’s
awareness so that they’re able to take in what’s going on
around them (or within them) with great clarity, without
singling out any one aspect. So perhaps saying it
instills clarity of perception is more accurate. I
like to use borrow the concept of "depth of field" from
photography... a narrow depth of field implies a
narrower range of focus; broad depth of field a broader,
more inclusive focus... this isn't meant to imply
a purely or predominantly visual effect; I think of
calamus as increasing one's perceptual depth of
field.
Sweet flag also seems to put
your energy into balance, and get you energetically
resonating as a whole. I like to say it "unscatters"
energy. For this reason it excels as a
treatment for panic and anxiety attacks, not only for
full-fledged episodes, but for the "little daily anxiety
attacks" that most of us can relate to. It is especially
good when an intense/traumatic situation occurs, and you
handle it excellently, but after its over you're all
strung out and a nervous basketcase. I find it works
best when a bit is chewed as soon as the onset of an
attack is perceived... often I've heard that once the
attack starts, it's not that it doesn't work as well,
but that it's hard to remember to use it. Again, I
think of that shuddering bitter quality; I visualize the
shudder as the "freaking out" person getting a good
shake: "Get a hold of yourself! Come back here,
into your body!".
(Incidentally, I feel this
affect on anxiety is the
reason why it was used for quitting smoking: not just
because it causes a "distaste for Tobacco" (it has been
smoked with Tobacco for treating headaches; although I
personally don't think the two blend together that well... like
chocolate and tomatoes, if you had one, would you really
want the other?). The intense anxiety associated with
"Nicotine fixes" is very much like the anxiety picture
that Sweet Flag is good for. However, it should not be
assumed to be a magic bullet for the Tobacco habit, but
rather an effective tool to supplement and enhance
determination and will power. Quitting smoking requires…
well, a long write up of its own.)
I've used the plant
quite a bit with people suffering from trauma, including
post traumatic stress disorder, chewed to push away the flashbacks,
quell the panic, and return to the present moment.
Feelings of dizziness, nervous queasy stomach, "leaving
the body", panic, looks like a scared animal in the
headlights, doesn't know which way to go, frozen by
fear, wants to run, but which way?, disassociated... all
these are good indications. Have the person chew
on Calamus and breathe deeply, fully and slowly and
often the anxiety and panic will fade. It's an
another option to consider alongside excellent remedies
such as
anemone, or
indian pipe.
In Ayurvedic medicine,
calamus is called vacha, which means "to
speak"... not only a restorer of the voice in a strictly
auditory manner, it is said to connect the heart to the
voice, to allow people to speak clearly, to speak truth.
One client with PTSD would chew on it before or bring it
with her to therapy sessions, as she felt it helped her
let out things she felt she was holding in, fearing to
speak aloud, to have "out there". Herbalist and
Naturopath
Anne Hill offers
some eloquent insights: "Intuitively and thru some
playing around with calamus I have come to regard it as
an herb for when people are in stuck mental states, like
spiritual emergence type of situations where a layer of
fear becomes prominent and inflamed almost and is ready
to unfurl itself and fall away so that the person can
move to another working level. I think calamus helps by
thinning the veil between ego and spirit as well as
spirit and Universe (or ____________ please insert deity
name of choice here). When one has a glimpse or feeling
of universal love, that fear can be more easily
released... My understanding of being in fear is that it
is so all inclusive that it barricades itself in so that
no new or different perspectives or information can be
obtained to help one move outside of that fear."
K.P. Khalsa tells a very moving story in a presentation
he offered on
herbal remedies for autism
(that link goes to a
recorded presentation; calamus is discussed at 45:45)
that illustrates the immense potential of vacha:
"I was talking to someone the other day whose child [is]
16... he's been essentially nonverbal his entire life.
He's said a couple of things here and there, but really
he doesn't communicate verbally. She was telling
me that recently they were sitting in their living room
watching TV and mom and dad were sitting on the sofa
behind the child... he was sitting a few feet from the
TV on the floor watching his favorite TV show... and
he'd never said a word to them in their entire life.
He had started taking calamus from their therapist about
2 weeks previously, and in the middle of his favorite TV
show, he turned around, looked at both of them on the
couch, and said "Mom and dad, I love you."
That story always makes
me teary eyed.
Of course, we should
assume that there was a much larger and comprehensive
protocol in place, but still... a priceless moment.
Another dramatic story
comes from Brigitte Mars; she told me of a friend whose
boyfriend was in a coma after a motorcycle accident.
Her friend applied a small amount of calamus essential
oil on his mustache, and he came out of the coma that
day. There is also evidence suggesting that
calamus can hasten recovery after stroke. Such
restorative actions on neurological function correlate
with the Ayurvedic understanding of the plant.
Frawley and Lad write,
"It is a rejuvenative to the brain and nervous system,
which it purifies and revitalizes... I promotes cerebral
circulation, increases sensitivity, sharpen memory and
enhances awareness." Hmm... seems exactly the way
the indigenous peoples of North America use it.
Now, we'd think that this
plant would be in wider usage than it is, eh?
Sigh…
Currently, the FDA
considers Calamus root to be carcinogenic. This assertion
is the result of lab studies that involved exposing lab animals massive doses of isolated
chemicals (beta-asarone) over a prolonged period of time.
The animals developed tumors, and the plant was labeled
carcinogenic. Again, these tests were Lab tests of
isolated chemicals in massive doses over an extended
period of time. If water were to be tested in the same
way, it would be deemed dangerous because people drinking
too much of it would drown. If oranges were tested this
way, they’d be considered a caustic poison because of the
ascorbic acid (Vitamin C) they contain. As a reaction to
this assertion, many herbals make reference to using only
"American calamus", which doesn't contain the
"carcinogenic" beta-Asarone in its essential oil (it was,
after all, the Indian Jamu strain they used to extract the
beta Asarone...).
Errrrrr…
for your sake (and so I don’t lose my generally pleasant
authorial tone), I’ll refrain from going off into a tirade
about extracting chemicals from plants and making
assumptions about the plant based on the effects of the
extracted chemicals. Instead, I'll simply draw a
picture that illustrates their reasoning (start at 12
o'clock and proceed sunwise):
Foolishness.
I don't believe the plant
is carcinogenic. There’s no evidence of this, not a
single shred that connects the whole plant with
carcinogenesis or tumors, and I don't worry about this AT
ALL. In all
indigenous cultures and most traditional herbal systems, calamus is credited as a plant that
preserves life and increases vitality. It has been used
daily by many cultures to ensure long life. But of
course, the good thing about holistic medicine is that we
all take responsibility for our own well being, and so its
up to you to make your own decisions about whether or not
you’ll worry about this. As for me, I’ve already given
the issue more time than it deserves. Let’s get back to
what counts…
An accurate account of
Sweet Flag cannot be given without addressing its role as
a Sacred plant. This is a rather daunting task, methinks,
but I’ll do my best to convey what I’ve come to know about
it without getting too flakey. What’s especially
interesting is that most of the impressions that follow I
learned from chewing on the root for close to 20 years now... after I'd developed a number of ideas about what it
did, I began to, here and there, run into other people who
used it, and the impressions they had about it were
usually quite similar to mine... on more than a few occasions
I've heard the same words, the same phrases... people who
really know calamus never seem to talk about it as a digestive
bitter or carminative, they talk about what it does
energetically. That's where its most potent virtues
reside.
It should be understood
that all plants – indeed all things that are upon this
Earth – possess virtues, possess medicines that define
their character and the role they play in the unfolding of
Creation. While all things are in some way teachers to
us, there are some in whose medicine more deeply lies this
task of Teaching. Some plants are Teacher Plants;
they're catalysts that help a person learn about far
more than just themselves.
Tobacco is a Teacher Plant, as are the Teonanacatl. Many
of the Artemisias are Teachers. And Calamus, too, is a
Teacher Plant.
Calamus is best
understood as a plant whose spirit teaches those who make
relationship with it how to live in a good way upon the
Earth; to live gently, lucidly, perceptively. It is
subtle, and teaches a subtlety of perception, a subtlety
of awareness… those who do not perceive such subtleties
will likely find little in it of merit (though they could
most benefit from such teachings). But make no mistakes:
the plant is incredibly wise & quite sentient. If perhaps
you cannot feel what it is putting out, it can certainly
feel what you are.
It is impossible to
really describe what my relationship with this plant is
like. How would you describe an orange to someone who had
never tasted one? The best that can be done, I suppose,
is to offer such descriptions as strike near the mark.
There’s something about
Calamus I’ve always likened to the song of crickets. If I
were to describe it using the idea of resonance, of
sound, I would think of the long, slow undulating rhythm
of crickets, and the way you come to feel if you sit out
in the evening and just let that music wash over you… the
way your tension dissipates, the way your mind slowly lets
go of its many errant simultaneous thoughts, one by one,
till you’re just there, right where you’re at, and
perfectly contented to be there. Tibetan “singing” bowls
create a similar effect in me, if they continue for a long
enough time… but they don’t quite compare to crickets, or
the rustling of leaves in the wind, or the running of
water over stones.
Someone once asked on
Henriette Kress’s herblist: “When you take it, what
thoughts run through your mind?” and my friend Art Sackett
replied, "Personally, what's remarkable is the thoughts
that don't run through my mind."
Exactly.
When preoccupations drop away, a
clarity of perception is revealed. It becomes easy for
the mind and senses to perceive; yet do so without
narrowing our perception. Chewing on Calamus seems to
sharpen vision noticeably, but ironically, this effect is
more pronounced when you’re just taking things in, and
less so when you try to focus on something specific. When
you do try and focus, the clarity diminishes somewhat; to
return when again you return from “looking” to “seeing”.
This effect seems to extend, as well, into its more
energetic effects. It's also interesting and
insightful to look at how the plants more concretely
medicinal effects mirror its more energetic ones.
As a gastrointestinal tonic Calamus stimulates digestion
while also having a relaxant effect; or said differently
it stimulates assimilation and resolves
resistance. This paradigm extends
beyond the digestive tract and into more esoteric facets
of our beings.
Clearly, given such
suggestive descriptions, it would be easy to assume that
Sweet Flag is a hallucinogen, which indeed has been done.
This opinion has been widely popularized by
Hoffer and
Osmund’s The Hallucinogens, which briefly covered
its use and said that it produced an experience "very
similar
to LSD". More suggestions were made because asarones
present in Calamus Root
can be used in the
synthesis of TMA-2, a synthetic
hallucinogenic phenothylamine that is similar in structure
to Mescaline. It has been erroneously reported that the
body converts the asarones in Calamus into TMA-2 as they
are metabolized, and that Calamus contains hallucinogenic
compounds similar to (and more powerful than) Mescaline,
and that it produces “strong visual hallucinations”. Web
searches on Calamus will turn up as much information on
its purported hallucinogenic activity as they will on its
medicinal actions... more, perhaps. Most often, they
depict accounts of (presumably) adolescents consuming very
large quantities of the root along with beer, Mountain
Dew, corn chips and doobies because they are “pyschonauts”
looking for a “plant ally” to teach them all about life;
emesis is often the result. This misguided course of
action (which, incidentally, definitely does not
impress plant spirits) is rather ironic in that Calamus
can indeed serve as a “Plant Ally”, and you can indeed
learn a lot of interesting things from chewing on it.
But I don’t consider Calamus to be
psychedelic. It certainly, though, is psychoactive, and
can produce subtly profound insights. But everything is
psychoactive, no? Everything we ingest affects not only
our body, but our mental, emotional and spiritual
faculties as well. Take Basil, for example. Eat a bunch
of fresh Basil on an empty stomach, and you’ll be walking
around with a Basil buzz, to be sure. Does that make it
psychedelic?
Such words are best left
behind, as they tend to predispose one to looking for a
certain kind of effect, and in doing so one may miss the
effect they’re actually experiencing. As my friend Art
Sackett once said (well, wrote): “It is what it is, and naming
it too concretely might just diminish the effect -- those
who come after might be so focused on trying to experience
"the right effect" that they miss the experience they're
having.” In other words, have no expectations. If you want
to make relationship with a plant, you can't go projecting
your ideas about it onto it. And don't go expecting
anything profound, Calamus just clears out the clutter and
gives you a good mindset from which to ponder what's
causing your clutter. But you have to be a part in this...
if your thoughts are racing around like crazy, you'll not
be able to "hear" what the plant is saying... it’d be like
trying to listen to crickets at a rock concert. So, you
have to settle down your racing thoughts in order for the
Calamus to help you settle down your racing thoughts...
Sounds contradictory, but its like... walking up an
escalator… you go faster than if you were taking the
stairs, and faster than if you just stood on the
escalator.
I know lots of people who
have just been looking too hard for some dramatic effect
to see what it does do. And they try it a few times, and
when they don't get bowled over (except perhaps by the
flavor), they lose interest.
There’s a lesson there, even though they don’t see it.
Remember: subtlety of perception, subtlety of awareness,
subtlety of self awareness...
And be
aware, as well, that Calamus (and any plant, really)
offers the most benefit when you work with it over a
prolonged period. You get to know it; you develop a
relationship with it, just like you do with people. And
just like with people, a good relationship gets deeper and
richer with time.
To
make relationship with a plant is an ongoing process of
patience, humility and respect. If you approach Sweet
Flag with this attitude, and without expectations of what
fruit will be born of this endeavor, you will likely
benefit in ways you cannot imagine.
©
jim
mcdonald
Offsite links
of interest...
The Ethnobotany of Sweet Flag
(timothy j motley)
King's American Dispensatory
(felter & lloyd)
Eclectic Materia Medica,
Pharmacology and Therapeutics
(harvey wickes felter)
The Physio-Medical Dispensatory
(william cook)
Calamus Video
(7song)
Calamus/Sweet Flag
(maria treben)
A Modern Herbal
(m.grieve)
British Pharmaceutical Codex
Sweet flag candy? This I'll
have to try
(henriette kress)
Sweet flag syrup: The
efficient use of leftovers
(henriette
kress)
History of Vegetable Drugs
(john uri lloyd)
Vacha
(todd
caldecott)
Calamus entry from Wild Roots
(doug elliott)
Herbal Remedies for Autism
(k.p. khalsa - calamus info at 45:45)
Calamus taste, let these not
be leaves of sorrow... part 1
part 2
part 3
(al-qemi)
Evidence Based Info on Acorus
calamus
(greenmedinfo)
Calamus poems
(from walt whitman's leaves of grass)
Language of Drug Use in
Whitman's "Calamus" Poems
(tracy auclair)
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