Quercus alba: a medicine of boundaries

by Naomi Harrison-Clay

My mother is very small and hidden to the insensitive eye. She can be red or green, and sits at the foot of the fathers within a field of microscopic fur. She faces out towards the world with her tiny petals proudly displaying their chests. She blooms in late Spring for only two weeks before Spirit’s wind-dance brings the message of pollination and she begins to swell into me. 

My father dangles low and loose upon the tips of last year’s branches. He clusters among his green brothers, blowing three inches long in the wind. He is like a dense curtain hanging from his maker. He is limp and free. My father is quick to let go, releasing his seed into the sky. 

When the Air brings my parents together, I am created upon the womb of the branch, maturing until Autumn into a one inch globular nut with a warty cap. My meat is white and bitter.

I am born a sensitive seed, requiring much care in order to survive. I need to be protected from the wanting mouths of squirrels and mice. I need a moist and cool condition during the winter, and a permanent outdoor home as soon as I begin to mature.

As a young seedling, I produce a conspicuous taproot, quickly committing myself deep into the underworld of my home and forming connections there. When I root somewhere, I stay put for life. Because of this, any disturbance to my young roots causes me to grow sick.

When I am young and small, my sensitivity to the many realms of life needs to be protected. This protection allows me to grow into a strong, nearly unbreakable being with limbs extending high into the heavens and deep into the underworld. The strength of my foundation allows me to reach far outside of myself without losing my vitality.

It takes time for me to grow. I grow slower than the Scarlet Oak, slower than the Northern Red Oak, and slower than the Black Oak. I grow slower than the Yellow-poplar, slower than the Black Walnut, and slower than the Sugar Maple.

I don’t need to be the fastest. I take my time. You must be patient to appreciate my beauty.

If you are patient, you will see me rise tall and wide, sometimes exceeding 100 feet with a body that is more than two feet in diameter.

As I grow older, my taproot evolves into a fibrous system that travels with curiosity all over town.

And where is my town? I thrive in grasslands where I can stretch my arms wide, extending my rugged crown to shade the land and tickle the breeze with my leaves.

Still, I can persist for a long time in the understory, often outliving my neighbors, especially when my bed is moderately dry or moist and well-drained. I am sensitive to flooding. I love high-quality soil and I grow in community with many different beings.

They call me the King of all Kings. They call me the Gospel Tree. They call me Duir, Drus, Dau, Dar, Derw. They call me Door and they gather around me in ceremony to enter the Door to the spirit realm. 

My body is strong and durable. My timber served as the backbone of construction for early colonies in the Northeast. My body was used to build famous ships that could outstand the threat of cannonballs. These people knew that my body is strong like a fortress. 

But long before I was used in this way, I was revered by people of the earth. These people knew that my body is strong like a temple. They knew that my spirit travels between worlds, with my long arms and long roots, and that I bring home the medicine of protection and longevity. They knew that I am resilient and steadfast, and can withstand the strike of lightning. They knew that I can live for nearly 600 years if I am allowed to. 

So, they used me for other things. They fed on my children, grounding acorns into flour. They weaved my skin into baskets or used it to create a dark purple-brown ink which was used when signing contracts before the Gods, to aid them with strength, permanence, and commitment. They hung my twigs in their homes to keep away evil and lightning. And of course, they used me for medicine. They listened and found me to be clear and succinct in my teachings. 

I teach of tightening the membrane. I teach of solidifying the structure. I teach of strengthening connections. I dry the flood. I bring the Air. Most importantly, I teach about boundaries. When boundaries are too loose and relaxed, fluids become leaky and accumulate inappropriately. The structure that holds everything together begins to lose its integrity. 

Think of a river. A river requires strong, unified boundaries in order to direct the water along its path. With sturdy walls around it, the water can flow with incredible force. When boundaries become too porous, the river that was once alive with movement becomes a stagnant swamp. Strengthening boundaries that are too relaxed will dry the flood and allow the water to be animated by the force of Spirit. These are lessons of Water’s relationship with Earth and Air.

When we are rooted in our structure, our home, our bodies; we become strong enough to reach far outside of ourselves, connecting with other beings and other realms without losing the momentum of our vitality, without stretching ourselves too thin. By maintaining boundaries that are porous but not leaky, we open ourselves to community and we support the forward motion of our waters. Our boundaries protect us. We need to be protected in order to build our strength. Once we are strong, we can explore the world abundantly.

My medicine lives primarily in my inner bark, collected in late Winter or Spring. I speak to those with swollen blue-black veins, bleeding gums, loose teeth, hemorrhoids, high blood pressure, mouth sores, and moist, spongey skin. I speak to those with poor appetite and metabolism resulting from a damp stomach or leaky intestinal tract and causing diarrhea.

I speak to those with poor fluid retention presenting as clear, copious urine and causing kidney weakness. I speak to those with an excess of fluids and loss of tone from over-relaxation of the membranes and tissues. I am powerfully astringent and calcifying to connective tissue, teeth, and bones. I am used as a sitz bath, poultice, salve, and mouth wash. My leaves can be decocted for a vaginal steam to clear excess discharge and tighten tissues.

As I am strong in my body, I am strong in my actions. I am not a daily medicine, but a powerful ally to approach with respect only in the moments when my teachings are needed. Boundaries can quickly become too strong, too tight, too narrow. It is important to remain porous and not to build walls around ourselves.

I am White Oak

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Naomi Harrison-Clay is a third-year student at ArborVitae.