Botanica Fabula

viii: Botanica Fabula

Warm water and ancient wisdom

Amanda Edmiston

Gather the driest Pinecones first (Pinus sylvestris). Pile them up and inhale their aroma. Sense the subtle effects of the pinene opening your lungs. Breathe a little more deeply. Top them with the driest of the tiny twigs, tumbled from the branches over your head, and kneel to light a flame. Add a bigger branch or two. Now sit back and watch it flicker, grasping the oxygen it needs. As you watch, feel yourself start to relax. The terpine-scented fire slowly starts to warm you; its resin-rich smoke subtly relaxing your mind, opening memories of more sociable times than the last year or so has allowed. You find yourself taking deeper breaths— your 480 million alveoli expanding, collaborating to allow oxygen in — releasing the grief of restricted speech and social contact, the destruction wreaked by this lung-chastening pandemic.

These are tricky days to get through. We are only acknowledging the fringes of it— our fear of returning to more sociable, crowded times amidst the frenzied reports of outdoor drinking, of clamouring for intense, heady, peopled experiences.

Instead, just take a moment. Seek out a valued confidante or two— close friends you love and trust. Seek quiet, so you can hear one another. Cook up a lung-nourishing dish to share— Sweet Potato (Ipomoea batatas), Garlic (Allium sativum) and Ginger (Zingiber officinale). Add a fresh Mustard leaf (Sinapis arvensis) or two. Set a kettle of clear water on top of your fire, and watch as it starts to bubble, to come to life with the warmth.

You are following the path of an ancient wisdom.

When I was sharing stories in China back in 2018, I spent days walking along dusty streets in Shanghai's French quarter, or along the seafront in Qingdao. I may love the heat but, when the humidity rises, I still harbour that British craving for icy liquids. It took a few days to embrace the cultural shift from cold drinks to sipping warm or room temperature, more fragrant fluids. But as I found my balance, learning from and embracing warm water's place in Traditional Chinese Medicine, I took the advice of a teacher whose class I was working with and settled into enjoying the white floral, gently uplifting energy of green Tea (Camellia sinensis) with a few Jasmine flowers floating on top.

The tradition of drinking green Tea dates back nearly 5000 years, to the days of the Emperor Shen Nong; also known as the father of Chinese medicine, Divine Farmer, Yan Di, the Emperor of Fire, and God of the Burning Wind. This mythology-wreathed being is said to have been borne by the princess Nü Teng, conceived when she swallowed the vapour of a celestial dragon. Shen Nong was born with a transparent belly and internal organs which, as he grew, gave him incredible insights into healing plants and their applications. Eventually, he became a respected and wellloved leader and— concerned by the famine and disease of his time —he took to travelling to find ways to alleviate the suffering of his people. As he travelled, he discovered many new medicinal plants and developed a divine understanding of farming, making discoveries in agriculture which became the foundation stones of Chinese civilisation.

Shen Nong was an advocate for the healthgiving effects of drinking boiled water— fresh water that had been heated, Qi-enhancing water —allowing the body to not only be refreshed by a fluid with a temperature more akin to its own, but also ensuring any malignant bacteria had been banished by the heat. When he travelled, he would have his retainers build a small fire and boil water for his drink. It's said that he discovered the benefits of green Tea when they chose to build the fire from the fallen twigs of a Camellia tree. The leaves were touched by the flames, carried up by the smoke, and the draft dropped them back into Shen Nong's boiling water. Intrigued by the gentle, smoky flavour, he left them in place and, sipping the liquid, found it brought a calm, alert quality to his mind. His insights into the wonders of the plant he called Cha 茶 (Cha means to examine or check) were carried first to Japan, and then onwards. By the eighteenth century, the beneficial properties of the beverage were being enjoyed on these shores, by those lucky enough to afford it.

So, as the water resting on your Pine-fed fire builds to a rolling boil, add a few leaves of green Tea and set it to one side to rest and infuse. Once again in the company of people you care for, in the warmth, breathe deeply again, fill your lungs— feel them expand —and embrace a quiet, reflective moment. Then take a little wisdom from Shen Nong, and sip your Tea.

Image: Guo Xu (1456–c.1529) ‘Shennong, the divine farmer', Shanghai Museum collection.

References Yang, Shou-zhong (1998) The Divine Farmer's Materia Medica: A Translation of the ShenNong Ben Cao Jing ( 神农本草经 ). Boulder, CO:Blue Poppy Press

An episode of The Very Curious Herbal Project for Chawton House Library, featuring stories of afternoon tea, is available on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CF0IBcgP f48&t=1116s