Do you eat your bitters? Bitter foods offer a multitude of health benefits, such as improving digestion, enhancing liver detoxification, and clearing up your skin when hormonal issues lie at the root of issues like acne. But did you know bitters can also improve your mood, clearing feelings of depressed malaise and calming the fires of impatience and anger?

​In Chinese medicine and in Ayurveda, the hallmark of a balanced meal is the inclusion of all of the flavours. ​​By including all of the flavours in a meal, you’re probably going to feel very satisfied. And satisfaction is a crucial element of enjoyable, intuitive eating.

One of these flavours is bitter, a very important taste that many of us are missing on our plates.

Throughout Spring and Summer in my Southeast Queensland neighbourhood, edible weeds pop up everywhere including in my own my backyard.

​Under the kids’ trampoline out of the lawnmower’s reach, I find dandelion greens, sow thistle, sheep sorrel, and wild carrot, among other largely unknown yet freely available sources of nutrition (always correctly identify plants before eating them, come to one of my Herb Walks to help you with this!). At the farmer’s market I uncover a similar array: mustard greens, endive, chicory, kale, parsley, rocket.​
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Constipation, colds and flu start to rear their heads in autumn as we transition into the colder months. Here are 11 tips to help you move through the season with strength and grace.

Updated April 2023. Originally published in Living Now magazine, 2016.

At this time of year, as the sap of the trees and flowers returns to their root systems, we too are preparing to turn inward. In virtually every ancient medicine system, this season of harvest was seen as the time of the year to pull inward and gather together on all levels; a time to plan for the approaching darkness and stillness of winter.

In TCM (traditional Chinese medicine), autumn is associated with wind and dryness. It’s also the season associated with the lungs and large intestine, which are responsible for releasing carbon dioxide and food wastes, respectively. It follows that the energy of both these organs is ‘letting go’. Elimination problems like chronic constipation can be exacerbated at this time of year. Emotionally, it’s the time of year to look at things we are hanging onto that are no longer serving us, and to let them go for good.

Mugwort is like the grandmother you always wanted, which might be why she is often referred to by herbalists as cronewort after the wise elder archetype. Like a patient grandparent who has been ignored and not visited for far too long, she welcomes you with zeal and open, forgiving arms, eager to distil her timeless wisdom to anyone willing to listen.

Perhaps this is why she is also known as the herb for new initiates to the plant spirit path. She is so easy to talk to. She welcomes you with open, soft, silvery hands. All you have to do is open up the conversation by saying "hello". And when you do, she will gently invite you in to realms of deeper perception, where a new way of communing with plants and integrating the healing process is possible.

In my communications with her I'm always amazed at how quick and clear she is in her conversing. She is so chatty (at least, relative to other plants I've spoken with) that I often doubt myself - "did she really just say that?" - although that is becoming less of an issue with time. More about that soon.

Mugwort's genus name Artemisia hints at the moon goddess that it it's namesake. Every image I've seen of the greek goddess Artemis (or Diana, her Roman equivalent) depicts her as huntress and protector of the wild creatures of the forest. She doesn't kill indiscriminately; she brings death only when it is timely and appropriate. And she also brings life, as is evident in her traditional use by herbal midwives in labour and birth.

Edit on 14 June 2020: Since writing this article I've learnt more about mugwort and the many different species growing around the Sunshine Coast Hinterlands, where I live. I believe one of the species naturalised to this area (and pictured below) may be Chinese mugwort (Artemisia verlotiorum) which is more aromatic than common mugwort (A. vulgaris) and grows 1-3 m high. 

For some years I've been interested in organic gardening, particularly permaculture. Recently I've taken a deeper dive into this method of 'natural' farming within which is embedded a deep reverence for, and trust of nature. And I've realised that permaculture has some uncanny parallels to the non-diet approach and Health at Every Size movement I am so passionate about in my clinical practice. For the last 7 or so years I've been working with people with weight, food and body image concerns, from wanting to lose a couple of kilograms to life threatening eating disorders.

One of the greatest teachers of this method of farming is Masanobu Fukuoka, author of The One-Straw Revolution. In this book Fukuoka describes his discovery of "do nothing" farming, where he creates situations where nature will do the work with the minimum of interference on his part.

So instead of spending hours ploughing the soil or spending money on adding chemical fertilisers to his crops, he simply chucks the rice straw back on the ground after harvesting it and scatters chook poo over it. Occasionally he sows clover to use as a green manure.

​And that's pretty much it.

And rather than seeing everything turn into a wilderness and watching helplessly as the prickles take over, Fukuoka actually equals the yield of farms that have had these modern high intervention inputs applied to them, with a fraction of the investment of labour and resources.
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Of course by "healthy weight" I don't mean what the BMI deems healthy. I adopt Dr. Rick Kausman's description of your healthiest weight being the most comfortable, natural weight for you - the weight your body naturally arrives at and maintains when we provide the right "soil" (see number 2). So here's what I gathered together in my current understanding of permaculture principles and my more deeply rooted understanding of HAES and the non-diet approach. The biggest parallels between permaculture, and the non-diet approach and HAES as roads to body peace, are:

Do you dread high pollen count days? Is spring a season of antihistamine overload, soggy tissues, and hiding indoors? Treating seasonal allergies naturally is straight forward with the right know-how.

The sleeping earth of winter is re-awakening, spring is well and truly here, and nature heralds her return. We feel an extraordinary push for life and movement within our own bodies, and we see it in the natural world. And with our own blossoming comes that of the beautiful plant world: so many, pollen-producing, allergenic plants!

The glorious feeling of taking that first breath of crisp, early spring air might be somewhat stifled if you’re one of many sufferers of seasonal allergies. All those pollens and animal hair can set off your allergic rhinitis, a fancy way of saying hay fever. Worse still: when your allergies trigger your asthma!
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I've waxed lyrical about my disdain for the commodification of yoga and how until very recently, it drove me away from yoga for nearly two years. You can read me being all anti-mainstream yoga Ranty McRantus, here.

But the other big reason I quit yoga was this: ​after I gave birth to my first child, my personal yoga practice was feeling spiritually unfulfilling. And physically depleting as hell. 

Following Archie's birth, the yoga I knew and loved - the dynamic, acrobatic, energetic practice full of dance and strong postures, inversions and fast flow - it just no longer... worked. It was not giving me the vitality, peace and stillness it once did.
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It has taken many painful mistakes, a near-complete abstinence from yoga for a time, and a rediscovery of yoga at a deeper level for me to come out the other side. Here's what happened after I had my first baby, and how you can avoid making the same mistakes I did.
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I've taken the last year and a half off teaching yoga. Some people assume I've just continued to teach and are mildly surprised when I tell them I'm not actually teaching. Others have noticed my absence and have been asking me when I'll start teaching again.

I know I've been especially missed by the (wonderful) AcroYoga community on the Gold Coast. ​The last yoga event I lead was a couples restorative AcroYoga workshop over 18 months ago. It was a gorgeous workshop and fully booked out. The people who attended were super sweet and provided such encouraging feedback. The staff at the host studio were incredibly helpful, down to earth and lovely. And I had a fantastic time teaching it.

​I receive near-weekly emails from curious newbies asking when I'll be teaching my next Acro workshop or class. I politely turn them away and direct them instead to other teachers.

The best reason I can come up with for my absence from the yoga world?

I just haven't felt like teaching yoga.

And more to the point, up until recently I have pretty much taken the last year and a half off from practising yoga.

Yep. No personal practice, besides the odd yoga class every few months, and some meditation in between looking after a newborn who is now a toddler (i.e. extremely sporadic meditation). My preferred form of movement switched from pre-baby trail running, daily vinyasa riddled with handstands and AcroYoga... to walking, reformer pilates and strength training to prepare for and recover from childbirth, and to build the strength I need to haul a toddler around without putting my back out.

I QUIT YOGA. Turned my back on it almost completely. After over a decade of reasonably dedicated practice and nearly as long teaching.

Why?

Basically, two reasons:

1. Once I gave birth to my first child (and probably a bit before that), the personal yoga practice I knew and loved - the dynamic, dance-like, acrobatic, yang-centred practice that is so celebrated in modern yoga culture - suddenly felt like total shit.

2. I had a gutful of how wanky it had all become.
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