the copper apothecary: welcome
art by @mosaiceye
welcome.
I first conceived the idea for the copper apothecary five or so years ago - recovering from surgery, getting rejected from medical school - searching for healing in every place I could think of and some I’d never before considered. since then, it’s become more than just a seed of an idea for a monthly missive. it’s an extension of the jars of herbs and spices in my kitchen, the altar burning incense in my living room, the pile of textiles in my mending basket, the shelves of books and of potted plants. it’s a place for the calendula steeping in sweet almond oil, the jug of fermenting kombucha, the rising loaves of sourdough, the bottle of elderberry syrup, the yoga mat in front of the window, the piles of written pages I’ve archived over the years. it’s the physical and emotional space from which I can share healing, nourishment, and joy.
why the copper apothecary? for one, I like the consonance of it. two, for the etymology of the word apothecary - both the pharmacist and the pharmacy, the chemist and the practice of chemistry, the antidote and complement to modern medicine, the work of witches and midwives. copper, third, for warmth and softness, for the earth and the rivulets of ore running through it, for life and blood, for pots and kettles polished with lemon and salt, for patinaed new england rooftops, for my favorite bangle and the old wives’ tale that copper bangles relieved arthritic pain.
I studied public health and now work to nourish my community and heal our systems of health care, in pursuit of health equity and reproductive justice. the lesson I’ve learned - am still learning - is that I cannot do that work without also attending to my own nourishment. healer, heal thyself.
so, this letter. a twice-monthly publication sent on the new and full moons, on the practices, therapies, medicines, and rituals we use to heal and nourish ourselves and each other.
what do you practice, to heal and nourish? reply to this email to tell me.
a few medicines for a late fall new moon, for anytime and always:
an affirmation, in song, on repeat these days
baking a loaf of bread and simmering a pot of soup to warm my home on this snowy afternoon
love is a skill, which means it can be practiced