My Tribute to American herbalist Stephen Buhner

First an inspirational author to me, then a mentor, then a friend. I share my thoughts on Stephen's work and his recent passing.

It was early 2003 and I was getting reacquainted with the Sonoran desert. Having recently come from living a very simple rural life in the southern hemisphere for much of the year before, I was in a state of shock and feeling great saudáde (a Brazilian Portuguese word used to express one’s anguish or longing for something lost) for Brazilians and Brazilian culture, for some months after returning to America. I could be found often in the library spending time in the reference section reading the ethnobotanical books not available for checkout, or checking my email now and then on the public computers (or checking out any available Brazilian music available on CD).

One day while combing through the herbal section (1 section of 1 shelf), I found something very intriguing to me. Maybe at first it was the simplicity of the cover, but the name spoke to me. It spoke to the journey I had been on for a couple years, the very unusual experiences I’d been having, particularly my time alone in Nature, and the voices that spoke to me while there. The name of this book was The Lost Language of Plants, by Stephen Harrod Buhner.

I slowly read that book, contemplating many of the ideas put forth. Then read it again. I felt this man had long ago come onto some of the lessons I had also learned from Mother Nature and was articulating it through a unique aesthetic and a deep sense of relationship while also utilizing the scientific literature to convey the phenomenal life of plants. I craved more of this, so I continued to seek it out in Nature for myself.

Thus, Stephen was an initial inspiration of great importance to me. His writings helped inspire and encourage me along my path when it otherwise appeared that no one else really cared about, or understood, what I was doing. Most importantly, his writing spoke to my internal environment in a way no other book had yet done.

Although I read several other books by Stephen Buhner, it was this first book that struck me the most, and stuck with me the most. It was a particularly timely read as I was on the precipice of embarking on my life’s path, or my work with plants and people. Stephen’s writing crossed into the ways I had come to herbalism: being in and learning from Nature, and experiencing the life ways of native Americans (see Sacred Plant Medicine).

Shortly after The Lost Language of Plants came The Secret Teachings of Plants: The Intelligence of the Heart and the Direct Perception of Nature, then many years later, Plant Intelligence and the Imaginal Realm. Stephen considered these books a triology, and his most important work. I feel this is true, as these books came from his soul.

It is perhaps The Secret Teachings of Plants that most resonates with my work today. I would say that Stephen’s musings on the nature of the heart as sensory organ supported what I was already aware of within, but enabled a keener awareness within myself for the articulation he lent to the power of the heart’s prominence. In my classes, I have often spoke of “the feeling sense” or “golden threads” with him in mind. It was also the way he utilized the scientific literature, once again, to substantiate his claims and convey his soul’s expression that inspired me even further.

At a time when self-doubt was my regular opponent, his writings once again gave me strength through inspiration in a direction that facilitated healing within myself, and would one day enable and encourage the healing for many others who would come to learn with me.

I would suggest reading this trilogy of books in succession for those interested in experiencing Stephen’s approach. Stephen also wrote books on Herbal Antibiotics, Herbal Antivirals, Healing Lyme Disease, and Healing Lyme Disease Coinfections. Stephen is perhaps best known for these books across the internet as there are numerous support groups that employ his protocols and have experienced a great deal of success by following them.

The way I see it, Stephen served as a voice of leadership and encouragement, if not inspiration for a generation of herbalist, particularly those inclined to hear the plants speak to them, or for whom a walk in the forest, desert, or mountains was often (if not always) a spiritual experience.

For Stephen gave consistent acknowledgement to this particular walk, and shared numerous stories from his own personal life to illustrate this - no, you are not alone; you are not crazy; the spiritual realm does speak to us, if not touch us, within the material realm. Coming from a purely material culture, receiving this validation from an elder male, a father figure (Stephen is the exact age of my father), meant a great deal to me, as I’m sure it has for many others.

Stephen had been a unique voice within the world of herbalism, often courageous in his speech and not too infrequently disagreed with. Frankly, the world of western herbalism has become too much an echo chamber in some regards, and I see limited potential at this time to emerge from limited ideas and beliefs, unfortunately. I appreciate Stephen for all the ways he did rock the boat - a boat that could stand a good deal more rocking.

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Stephen gave me the gift of witness by welcoming me into his home and sitting with me in mentorship and in friendship at a time which marked the beginning of a transition for me. His generosity to me extended to other areas of my life and offered a much needed support (again) when I was struggling. For this I am eternally grateful in acknowledgement of his compassion and generosity. A true human gift.

He lived what he wrote in the way that he expressed, in vulnerability, his heart to me both explicitly and implicitly. Our discussions were often deep and candid, and a true kinship was felt by us both, I know. A rare and exceptional gift in this world we live in.

Ultimately, I am left with a sadness within me. A sadness for not having explored our friendship more thoroughly and for all the ways I wished to express myself but did not. This lies within me. As is most often (if not always) the case, the misery resides within those left behind, not for those who have passed. It is, no doubt, a relief to pass from this world whether trouble or obstacle lies ahead. After a life of struggle, if not determination to succeed, is it not a grand consolation to come to a final rest?

Two months ago, while camping in the mountains with my apprentices, I had a vivid dream with Stephen in which I asked him how he was doing and he answered something to the effect of, “I’m doing quite well” (something I never heard Stephen say). I was pleased, yet surprised, in the dream, but went on talking about something in my life. Stephen encouraged me and gave me grace in that exchange. It wasn’t until some time after I’d awakened, that I realized that he was nearly ready to pass or had already passed on - for that is why he told me that he was “doing quite well”.

I issued my ‘goodbye’ to Stephen via email as it was too late to visit in person as he had grown too weak and encumbered by his illness, so I will do so once again here as a goodbye in writing to a friend is never quite a goodbye.

The gift of your friendship meant a great deal to me, Stephen, and I am truly sorry for the ways I may have squandered it carelessly. This is only a reflection of my own shortcomings. You gave tremendous gifts to so many through your words and writings, if not through many other ways, that you would not need to be remembered by one more man, but I will remember you and continue to speak about your genuine contributions with respect because I knew you as a man, not just you the author. Travel well, travel lightly, and may your remaining family rest in the consolation of a life well-lived. Goodbye, Stephen. With love, John.