by Yarrow
Mistletoe – a mysterious plant. I can’t help but catch my
breath a little as I glimpse it, hanging heavy in the branches of the
old poplar tree at the end of the field.
It’s early spring, and everything around me is still bare, the
trees still silhouetted in skeletal form against the low afternoon light.
So it seems a little strange that the mistletoe plant is hanging there
so abundantly, apparently defiant of the rhythm around it, unashamed of
its luxuriant winter growth. Drawing closer, I can see the individual
sprigs of the lowest bunch – the familiar pairing of leaves and
the berry nodes in between. This form has become so familiar to us now
through the Christmas tradition of kissing beneath mistletoe sprigs –
though more often than not, these are plastic nowadays. Yet the living
plant itself still has an air of enchantment, of “other”.
The legends and superstitions around it are many, and it has a long history
of healing applications, furthered today by research into its use for
cancer.
Elsewhere in these pages you can read about the mythology and biology
of this plant. Here I wanted to offer a perspective from the beginnings
of a personal healing relationship with mistletoe. For me, the feeling
of mistletoe is both of awe, enchantment and also of slight apprehension.
The plant obeys no known laws of growth. It is a law unto itself, putting
forth both berries and flowers in the winter, growing from nothing, apparently
– no roots, no contact with the earth.
Mistletoe’s “otherness” – it’s defiance
of the rules - makes it a plant of the edge, between darkness and light,
between male and female, between earth and sky. One myth to encapsulate
this is the Scandinavian myth of Baldur.
Baldur, the “shining” god, troubled by dreams of his impending
death, talks to Frigg, mother of all the gods, who in turn talks to all
living beings, asking them to take an oath not to harm Baldur. However,
she forgets the mistletoe. Loki the mischief maker discovers this, and
during a game where all the gods are throwing things at Baldur, knowing
he cannot be harmed, he thrusts a sprig of mistletoe into Hodur’s
hands. Hodur, being blind, has no idea of what he is holding, and hurls
the plant at Baldur, who is struck down and killed. The earth is plunged
into darkness, an extended winter, until the pleas of the gods return
Baldur to life. The plant is then given into the hands of the goddess
of love for safekeeping.
Here we have a plant of death and of life – a plant that kills
but that then comes into the service of the fertile goddess of love. A
plant apart from the others. A plant mythically capable of plunging beauty
and light into the depths of chaos and darkness, and yet as medicine reputed
to bring back order, rhythm, regularity.
It’s a plant with strong fire and air qualities, and belongs to
the domains of the Sun and Jupiter – expansive growth, the principle
of fertile life. This is reflected in its medical uses – its affinities
with the quick-fire of the nervous system, of the fire in the heart, and
with the fertility of women.It is widely recommended these days that we
do not take the berries internally. The side effects of an overdose can
be fatal to the heart. However, Juliet de Bairacli Levy recommends a dosage
of three to four berries taken fasting, and it seems that our ancestors
had a different relationship with plants we now consider to be toxic.
Perhaps this is because the wise herbalists of those days had an intimate
relationship with the plants they used, and were great observers both
of the human and the plant world. Thus they could well judge how much
of a plant could be given for healing, and how much would prove toxic,
on a case-by-case basis. Nowadays even as herbalists, we tend to look
on our medicine plants with empirical, analytical eyes first.
Mistletoe was one of the seven sacred herbs of our Druid ancestors –
the others being henbane, vervain, primrose, pulsatilla, clover, wolf’s
bane. The documented uses of mistletoe include its use for epilepsy, petit
mal, nervous heart conditions (it acts on the vagus heart nerve to reduce
heart rate whilst strengthening surrounding capillaries), water retention,
heavy menses and high blood pressure. Also it has a history of use for
curing barrenness in women and in animals. Homoeopaths find that it has
an affinity with the left side of the body. As a rub, the berries can
be used for stiff joints and for drawing out poisons from boils and pimples.
But perhaps the most exciting development in our understanding of this
plant is its potential in the recovery from cancer and leukaemia. Experiments
(sadly, using mice and rats) began in the 60s, and human leukaemia cells
have been seen to be strongly affected by extracts. There has been found
to be a tumour-inhibiting bacteria in the plant. It seems to increase
the activity of certain immune cells. Mistletoe extracts have been developed
and are sold as “Iscador” – an anthroposophical medicine.
Yarrow
peace [at] druidnetwork [dot] org
March 2004
