Soma

From the book, In Search of the Medicine Buddha

By David Crow

I am floating, lost among the sky's reflections somewhere on Lake Fewa. Machapuchare's snow-draped peak is close, the fertility goddess watching over us, looking down as my tiny boat glides across the water. Waves of ferns fall from the mountainsides above, reaching the water's edge to brush against my outstretched hand. Dragonflies with fragile wings of painted velvet hang from heart-shaped creepers, and butterflies navigate invisible air currents.

Along the water, herbs are growing in abundance. Climbers and shrubs compete for space, weaving leaves of yellows and greens into layers of living colors, starburst flowers hiding in their shade. Dr. Tiwari would know them all, of course, having documented them here in the Gorkha district. I hear echoes of his voice as he happily recites their Latin, Nepali, and common names.

In the old cultures, plants were regarded as sacred beings from higher realms, gifts of the gods placed on earth, and embodiments of divine attributes. The seers of Ayurveda taught the people to care for the botanical kingdom, by describing various species in religious and mythical language. They understood that when a society does not respect the consciousness of plants, it will awaken to discover they have vanished, taking their life-sustaining gifts with them.

"Many plants originated from amrita, the nectar of the gods," I remember Dr. Tiwari saying. "One story in our ancient books says the devas and asuras [gods and titans] churned the sea, and from that came amrita. They fought over the nectar, so Indra took it and flew away. During the flight some drops from the pot fell to earth and became drugs. One of them is guduchi [Tinospora cordifolia], another is haritaki [Terminalia cbebula], and another is garlic. In my view, these stories emphasize the properties of the drugs and their specific actions."

The mythical qualities attributed to important herbs help convey their value to humanity. For example, one of the synonyms of myrobalan is amrita, which emphasizes how this fruit never causes any toxicity or harm to the body. It is also known as patya, meaning it is always beneficial to the body's channels, and rasayan, because it acts as a rejuvenator. To a person whose illness has been removed by the myrobalan, this remarkable herb would seem like a drop of nectar from heaven.

I drift through the shadows of overhanging branches, listening to the trees. They whisper simple gratitude, speaking for all of us who have forgotten the importance of the soil, sun, water, and air. How precious and sacred are the plants of this world, and the elements that nurture them! No life will exist when they are destroyed. Will we listen, remember, and give thanks for their healing powers before they are gone, or will our fate be that of the forests and animals dying of thirst and disease around us? The stones speak silently, reminding us of how soft and fragile our bodies are. Even a butterfly blown by the wind understands this.

'There is an innate respect for all living beings in the Vedas," Dr. Singh once said. "In the Hindu pantheon, so many plants are the incarnation of God Himself. Once you come to the point where you realize they are also living beings, that they have equal rights to be on this planet, I think that particular feeling will give you respect, and you will not harm them or take them for granted.

'The ancients have said 'Aham Brahmasmi,' 'I am the universe.' That was not a delusion,- they really experienced totality. Those seers understood that all of life has evolved originally from consciousness, and therefore everything has consciousness, and has been created for a purpose. If we are destroying something, it is because of our narrow-mindedness."

Hindu religious texts contain numerous references regarding the importance of plants. In the Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna says, "I am present in the plants in the form of aswat. If you want to worship me, worship the aswat." Aswat is the Ficus religiosa, the Bodhi tree under which Buddha reached nirvana. Many Hindus worship this tree, offer it water, and avoid cutting its wood. Within this religious sentiment is an important ecological reason to protect this species: it releases more oxygen than other trees.

Another tree that is worshipped and given offerings is the Ficus bengbalensis, the banyan tree. This species produces aerial roots that become new trunks, thereby perpetuating its life indefinitely. There is one tree in Calcutta which covers an area of about four acres,- its main trunk is unknown. This tree also has an important ecological function: it is very good for binding the soil and preventing erosion.

Religious stories describing plants as divine encourage us to preserve precious natural resources, and help bring the sacred into our everyday lives. The earth-based spiritual wisdom found in Ayurveda and other traditional cultures opens our eyes to the sanctity of life,- this is crucial not only for health and happiness, but for our survival. Believing that God dwells in trees is not an abstract philosophical concept, pagan superstition, or a quaint Hindu custom: as we destroy the plant kingdom, we decrease the oxygen of the atmosphere. Anyone with asthma or emphysema knows that oxygen is life, and without the presence of pneuma, spirit in the form of breath, the body will suffocate. Perhaps in the future the Ficus religiosa, Buddha's tree of enlightenment, and all its relatives, will play a role in restoring the earth's atmosphere. If that day comes, those suffering from respiratory illness will find healing and solace in fragrant groves filled with luxurious air.

"In the Terai region people marry plants together," I hear Dr. Tiwari saying. "We hold a marriage ceremony for the Ficus religiosa and Ficus bengbalensis, just like a marriage ceremony for people. When our children get married, we marry the plants on the same occasion. It is done at the crossroads, and is quite common. This is how we show affection to the plants. There is no scientific reason to do this, but these ceremonies remind us of the great importance of our natural resources." In many places throughout the countryside of Nepal these two varieties of trees have grown together in marriage for hundreds of years.

"We use many plants in our routine ceremonies," the herbalist went on. "Some people make a ring with the grass Imperita serendrica and wear it when making offerings. The Brahmin community make a holy thread from Sacharutn munja and wear it at the upanayam ceremony, when the Gayatri mantra is introduced to the child. We use sesame oil for altar lamps, it is the best among all vegetable oils, and said to originate from the sweat of Lord Vishnu. The wood of Butea monospemum is used for fire in ceremonies, because it is regarded as sacred to Agni, god of fire.

"Aromatic herbs are used in offerings, like Cedrus deodaria (Himalayan cedar bark), Nardostacbys jatamansi (Indian spikenard), Valeriana wallicbiana (valerian), and neem. We burn these plants and chant to purify or disinfect the atmosphere. We plant tulsi, holy basil, and go to it early in the morning and pray; it is antiviral and antibacterial, and keeps away mosquitoes. People worship the neem tree, and use it during epidemics of measles. They put neem leaves in the patient's bed and use them to fumigate the room and to purify water for baths. In the past people were not familiar with terms like antibacterial and antiviral, but they knew this tree was effective in preventing infection and stopping the spread of disease. Even today neem is used for treating measles in many villages.

"These things show that at one time people knew the utility of different species. If you know plants are important, you won't disturb them, and this will prevent their extinction or loss In the past the use of plants in daily worship linked culture and religion together. Now people are abandoning these customs."

"Why are they rejecting these things?" I wondered.

"Because they lack understanding of why they are necessary, and don't know the scientific reasons," my teacher replied. "We are also not communicating this knowledge to our coming generation."

The earth remembers what we have forgotten. Before cars, before freeways, we walked, our feet touching the soil. We knew its fertility by seeing it giving birth to creatures and plants. Before we withdrew into insulated existences, we felt the ground awakening in the springtime sun and saw how it slept in the depth of winter. We knew the coming and going of the wondrous forms of life, the habits of the animals, the flowering and dying of the plants, the turning of the constellations in the night sky.

Soft breezes move along the shore, the breath of the Goddess playing on the vegetation like strings of a formless instrument, evoking murmurs of music in response to Her passing. How blissful to recline all day, listening to these gentle voices, untouched by the anxieties and discord elsewhere in the world. Eagles soar in choreographed perfection, effortlessly embracing the wind, white cranes leave effervescent trails through pastel skies.

All beings are born from, suckled, raised, and eventually reclaimed by the Universal Mother. As the moon, clouds, and rain, she nourishes the plants with her juices. In dark forests and silvery meadows, the queen of the night moves among the leaves, releasing infinite chemical transmutations as she excites the flavors and smells circulating in the veins of her vegetal subjects. The Mother blesses us with foods and medicines,- her blood, breath, bones, and warmth are the true nourishment carried within the plants and animals who have sacrificed themselves for the continuation of our lives. All that we eat and drink are forms of her milk, the sweet Soma flowing from the breast of the earth.

Our bodies are sustained by the sun's rays, rain, and nutrients from the soil. Yet we cannot eat sunlight or soil directly. In order to survive, we depend on plants to photosynthesize, to bond the solar energy into the constituents of earth and water present in their green bodies. Could adoration of this divine process, upon which our lives rest, perhaps be the secret of Soma's ancient alchemical cult?

I hear Dr. Tiwari's voice melodically reciting an ancient Vedic invocation to the plants, asking the blessings of Soma's nutriment to come forth. "Those that are dark and that are bright, the red and the spotted, the brown and the black herbs, all of them do we address. Let them save this man from disease sent by the gods. The plants whose father is heaven, earth the mother, ocean the roots, what power is yours, ye powerful ones, what heroism and strength is yours, herewith, o herbs, free this man from sickness. Now I make a remedy. Let the thoughtful ones come hither, allies of my spell, that we may make this man pass forth out of difficulty. Let the powerful plants that are praised save this village, cow, horse, man, and beast. Rich in sweets the root, rich in sweets the tip of them, rich in sweets the middle of the plants, rich in sweets the leaf, rich in sweets the lower of them. Partaking of sweet, a drink of nectar, let them milk out ghee and food, with milk as chief. However many may be these herbs upon the earth, let them, thousand-leafed, free me from death, from distress.

"I want to discuss one word here," my teacher had said when finished. "It is madhu, the sweet taste. In the old days there was a branch of science known as madhu vidya. It was the science of increasing the life span, giving freedom from the aging process, stress, desires, and lust. This prayer belongs to those used for potentizing drugs. Rich in sweets means the person takes the plant and prays, 'O God, you enrich the root, you enrich the leaf, you enrich the stem, you enrich the flower, the seeds.' It means you activate these parts of the plants for medicinal purposes and elimination of disease."

As the wind dies down and the heat of the day recedes from the oncoming coolness of evening, the lake's surface becomes a silky skin, moist with impressionistic reflections. The insects of the forest begin their chant. They unite in one voice, spinning wheels within wheels of hypnotic droning. Quietly at first, then louder, pulsing in rhythms of secret entomological meaning, the trees resonate with an otherworldly chorus of primitive sound.

A voice is coming from somewhere in the vine-covered bluffs above. Could there be someone in a cave, hidden among the stony turrets? Now it's gone, and only the breeze streams through the forest and across the water. Again the song comes, in an alien yet familiar tongue. The voice is distinctly feminine, but still unseen in the heights. Now a woman appears, standing somehow against the vertical face of the cliff. She is working, either harvesting herbs or cutting wood, standing on sheer ledges hundreds of feet above the treetops, singing fearlessly. I watch, amazed, waiting for her next song, her next prayer, to drift down to the lake. But she is gone, leaving only the sound of water against the boat's wooden hull.

The sun departs with regal farewells, painting another noble Himalayan sunset with lavender, orange, violet, and rose. High above, the clouds become weightless worlds of opalescent landscapes. Slowly, imperceptibly, the vision changes to shining bronze, dies down to flaming orange, then fades into the gray tones of approaching night. The peaks around Machapuchare recede in fading gray hues, disappearing into the approaching evening. The invisible veil between inner and outer, earth, sky, and water, vanishes in the stillness. Unknowingly, I have drifted into samadhi, suspended in open expanses of evening light. I float silently through space, among clouds reflected deep in the lake.

All of Creation is breathing together in this moment. We are asleep to its movement, but our bodies remember. The breath flows in to give another moment of life, and then back to its source in a continual prayer, expressing the innermost thoughts of the heart. Echoes of voices are floating in the wind, spoken, chanted, and sung since beginningless time with the same air that now enters my chest. I remember Dr. Tiwari's wisdom, and pray that others may also hear it: "All life on earth is based on plants. Without them we cannot survive. Without plants, there will be no prana vayu, life-sustaining air."

Nighttime has come again. Looking at the sky, I remember a time when we knew the stars intimately, when their presence was close, when their rays danced in the liquid of our wondering eyes. Before our minds were captivated by technology, we saw the world as a magical place. In the depths of our sleep move the dreams our ancestors dreamed as they lay upon the peaceful earth.

I am floating, somewhere between worlds. Outside, the crickets and fireflies are still awake, while inside, my dreams are coming to life. The stars begin to speak in ancient voices, words of light older than this world, roaring suns filling the firmament with quiet wonder. The winds breathe secret languages, inhaling and exhaling the perfumes of the seasons,- they have been everywhere, and know everything. Womblike caves enclose the space of contemplative emptiness, mouths agape with the mountain's call to hear the silence of all-knowing. Playful flowers open the iris of their single chakra, giving birth to realms of color and fragrance,- anemones and seashells lie in sensual pools of liquid mandalas.

I wander, enchanted, through the invisible landscapes of sleep. Goddess Moon unwraps her silk cloud-kimono, revealing her milky radiance — sighs of poetry rise on coiling incense dragons as she undulates the currents of the night.
 

David Crow, LAc is one of the world’s foremost experts and leading speakers in the field of botanical medicine and grassroots healthcare. He is a master herbalist, aromatherapist, and acupuncturist with over 30 years experience and is an expert in the Ayurvedic and Chinese medical systems.

David is a renowned author, a poet and is the founding director of Floracopeia Aromatic Treasures. Floracopeia was created as a way to help preserve and promote the use of botanical medicines as solutions to solving numerous interrelated global problems: lack of healthcare, poverty, environmental destruction, and loss of ethnobotanical knowledge.

David has presented his vision of grassroots healthcare, preservation of botanical medicines and the use of plants for ecological restoration to hundreds of audiences, ranging from small private groups to conferences and lecture halls to a panel discussion with the Dalai Lama broadcast internationally to millions of viewers. Through his visionary synthesis of medicine, ecology, and spirituality, he has helped transform the lives of thousands. Click here to visit David’s website, Floracopeia.

In 1987, David journeyed to Nepal in search of teachings in Tibetan medicine and Buddhist meditation. For the next 10 years, he studied with many teachers. Using his newfound knowledge, Crow opened a clinic in Kathmandu and another in a small mountain village, where he treated beggars from the street as well as high abbots of monasteries. In Search of the Medicine Buddha interweaves medical teachings with insights into Tibetan Buddhism, evoking the beauty and wonder of a faraway land.